i wish i could write you poems
that wouldn't fill your head with lies.

we are all dead
somewhere inside
but it was never my heart...

i take it all back
every last bit of it.

all those words
those years..

and for what?

to have you look at me like that
as though i am a monster for having
said those things, for having
written them down for anyone
to read.

and somewhere in some poem
it is always raining.
who created who in the end.
i mean, really.

i wrote you as i saw you and sometimes,
i've even written how i'd like for you to be.
but now in this moment, i've made such a
mess of things.

was it actually you who created me..

through all of these writings, these poems,
word
after
word
after
word

this is where i thought you lived, this is
where i thought i could find you still breathing, see...

but the truth is
this is where you left me

you don't really exist here at all
and i take every last bit of it
back.

01/15/2005

Posted on 01/15/2005
Copyright © 2025 Olivia Weinkein