www.whyville.net Mar 2, 2014 Weekly Issue



Jillith
Whyville Poet

Leaving in December

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Just past midnight he whispers behind me, "Sit up,
I'm so sorry, I wish I could change this all but..."
He doesn't love me
I asked, but he gave me no reason.
Said I came in at a confusingly bad time
He's just rambling on, I see bruises in his lies
"It doesn't matter, tell me, what is love even?"
As we talk in the night I consider the twist
all the things we've gone through never prepared me for this
I can't imagine how I will ever forgive him

But I don't say I hate him
or yell things I am thinking
I believe we can push through this
who says we're sinking?
We've done nothing, what about seeing the world?
"Don't you think you need something else?"

The sun peeks through my window and I'm still awake
We are talking about if he should take off today
He cannot love me
He just wasn't born for one person.
I think thirty years from now when he settles down,
finally realizes that everyone needs love somehow,
Will he remember?
Will he think back on this December?
Will he remember?
Will he think back on this December?

I hope he remembers.
I hope he thinks back on this December.

 

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