Wait no more

I have waited for the day where my words are not of you
where these letters stop outlining your ribcage, your collarbones, your side swept smile, your freckled eye, your calloused finger tips, your curved spine when you lean off of the steps with your head in your hands
I have waited for the time where my identity fills out my own desires
like crisp, smooth imperfect books lined up with their
covers faded but impeccably intact

I have tried to mold myself, make myself into something
amiable and honest
I have attempted to redefine these empty parts
instead of just labeling them dark and leaving them alone

There will never be a day where my words are not of you
where these letters don’t form a silhouette around each memory I have of you

I hate the way this ends
when it ends
when will it end, again

 

shadows

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