The One Who Loved

Dear The One Who Hates,

 

I still remember the days that we shared.

The plucking of flowers and pulling of hair.

The theories of God that would fly through our heads

The inevitable mystery of what happens when we’re dead.

 

We would often sing the songs that we wrote

Songs for eachother, our love, and our hope.

Oh how those three words would come out your mouth,

And how I’ll say it back, like the sun to its clouds

 

But was it true?

 

Yet no matter the length in time and counts of sunrise,

You are still beautiful, a star in my eyes.

No one can match to my star infested sky, that was you.

It hurts to say such things but it's true

 

So here I walk, through the park in which we’d meet

The bench, the grass, the leaves, and the trees.

All sentimental clutter of what we used to be.

A ladder to the sun, was what you were to me.

 

But was it true?

 

You were the one who loved,

But now you’re the one that hates.

I guess in the end, I was the one who lost you

But not only that, I lost myself too.

 

It was.

 

From,

The One Who Loves

 

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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