my room is filled with photografs
memories laying around
old thoughts,
stuffed into boxes
waiting to get out
little pieces of the past
there's always somethings missing
a name i forgot
a face that's blurred

the real world
is just a bunch or mirrors
never showing me what i want to see

there are old songs
clinging on to the strings of my guitar
my words never really
went as far as they could
and the songs of you
still bouncing against my walls
never really left
there's this small scent of you
all over my sheets
getting through the soapy smell of my mom's tidyness

and i'll never become whole,
i'll never become real
there's no use in counting calories
running untill you're out of breath
i'm haunted
by the memories, the words,
the promises i never kept
i still see monsters
in the corner of my eye
i still see,
nothing but,
staring back from all these mirrors

Poetry by crushoftheyear
Read 607 times
Written on 2006-01-09 at 21:57

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sometimes memories are treasured sometimes they are best left in old photos.Some faces are best left blurred while others should always remain clear.I concur with your piece.