A Poem From My Past
At 16 we're all poets
Moving home recently brought to my attention a note book that i used to take everywhere with me in my first year of college. It holds hastily scribbled philosophy notes, deconstructions of media, drawings, and some poetry. Being only 16 at the time, i was sure that my boyfriend was the love of my life, and was crushed when it ended. I don't feel anything for him anymore, but when i read this poem for the first time in years, i still feel a little of my 16 year old selfs hurt and anger. So here it is!
Flowers in the pouring rain
Thinking of his face again
Vaguely wishing for his death
Dreaming of his final breath
Lost in absent minded prayer
Sure that i could see you there
Broken from the very start
You tore my little world apart
Petals falling from a rose
I watch you in your final throws
Reds and whites that hit the floor
With grace we never had before.