The challenge of forgetting is much harder then the statement of just saying, “Get over it.” I know everything takes time and I definitely know that I am solely dependent on that noun. It seems like everything reminds me of him, every song somehow manages to tie in how we were, are, and will never be. Today I threw away the yellow flowers he had once bought me; just like he threw everything we ever were in one phone call.
: Thrown:
The color yellow
No happiness to exemplify it
Unsatisfied
For my past memories are at hand
I warned you
Yet I still got the blame
And now I have the flowers you gave
The leaves crumble on my countertop
Just like we had once crumbled into one another
But that’s just something that happened
Nothing seemed meaningful to you
I was just a convenience that you used
This is the end of my trying
The end of every hopeful possibility
For I did not even tread on the sand you brought me
Yet you have still managed to burn me
This is the end of our story.
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