Untitled Poem

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Everytime I think about my life without you in it
I realize there's only one way for this story- only one way to spin it
There's only me to blame
Only me to pin it on, so many ways to look at it, but in the end it's all the same.

My memories of you are so old
That I really don't know why this story should bother being told
You're probably not the same
And there's only me to blame.

It's all my fault
But thinking like that is like rubbing the wound with salt
I've locked my memories in a vault
And they come spilling, spilling, whenever they ought not

I don't know why I still think of you
I don't know why this thoughts still turn my vision blue
I know, I know, I'm getting jaded
But I have to remember it till it's faded.

Love and destruction
They seem one
To me- but you only see the latter
But really, does it even matter?

My love, you, I sold
For what at the time was so cold
My fortune, I had begun to mold
When I followed instincts uncontrolled.

When I cut you, I killed myself
I shattered, splintered, stoned my health
I lost my wealth
of love- now my hand is dealt

I'll be forever without you
Forever untrue
But at least to comfort me
I have the memories of what used to be.





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