Love what you can’t have
I’m not sure when it changed, or when I started to see,
that loving you was losing every version of me.
I wrote about your laughter, how it lived in my chest,
how loving you felt like I had finally found rest.
I wrote about your hands, how they softened my name,
how nothing before you had ever felt the same.
But something in the silence began pulling apart,
like you were slowly leaving while still holding my heart.
I don’t think you noticed, or maybe you did,
how I unraveled quietly, how I hid what I hid.
Because I was never gentle, I was never the type,
to stay when it hurt, or to hold on too tight.
I was always the first one to walk out the door,
but with you I kept running, always wanting you more.
Every inch of your distance felt louder than sound,
so I chased every echo of you I had found.
And maybe that’s when it started to break,
when loving you felt like a beautiful mistake.
Because you were amazing in a way that won’t stay,
the kind you remember but never can keep anyway.
The kind you look back at, again and again,
knowing you’ll never be that version of them.
I don’t know who I was before you were mine,
or if I was anyone worth finding in time.
All I know is you saw something I couldn’t see,
and somehow you built a whole person out of me.
Now I’m standing here holding what you did create,
but you’re not beside me, and now it’s too late.
Because you were my first, the first I let through,
and the first thing I loved that I couldn’t hold onto.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.