I find it beautiful and bittersweet how time can reveal our true feelings towards someone. Often, we leave relationships and connections assuming we’ll find more like them, only to realise that some connections are irreplaceable. Some people love you in such a unique way that, years later, you recognise what a remarkable chance meeting it was.

You gotta love that stage, where you lose feelings for someone
Who never bothered to reciprocate them.
It’s a bittersweet freedom, like dawn breaking through night,
As you slowly free yourself from the chains of devastation,
Begging for effort that was not once granted.

I don’t think I’ve written poetry before, and the reason I do now is because I need to sugar-coat my feelings. To write them without subtlety means I’ve lost another love, and I can’t bear that. Now I write for the art of it, making it my musing, so I can convince myself I’m enjoying the hopelessness of it, romanticizing it, sensationalizing it, so I can find contentment—contentment in the idea of being in love with your impossibility.

How you had all of me, I will never know.

If you can go days without speaking to me, that is all I need to know about where your feelings lie.

I stayed in bed and grieved the loss in my head. I went out with people, one after the other, a carnival of men, and I was bored of them before they even spoke.

I bear this loss with my whole heart.