I was just telling dr_zero that I’ve been too depressed to write poetry but I’m getting better now and he said that poetry comes after, when you’re motivated enough to write about how bad it was. This is very raw, and not very good, but that’s to be expected after a hiatus I guess. Anyhow… soul-baring time.
One day
one day you will move cities
and we won’t know each other well enough
for you to tell me
one day you will encounter me
in the streets with a young child
and be saddened that you didn’t know
i’d had her. one day i will drive past
some street that we kissed in
and wonder why it feels familiar
but i won’t be able to recall.
one day, someone will tell me
they ran into you in a supermarket
and it won’t hurt. one day i’ll
be able to write poems about you
without tears welling so i can’t
see the screen properly.
but not yet.