For a Person Who May Not Even Exist

I had never intended to give up
Blame it on every lackluster infatuation
That I convinced myself
Was meant to be meaningful.
I found myself overtaken by fantasy
Blame it on every instance
Where I took a step back
To mean a step in the right direction
I clung needlessly to the idea
That my person would reveal themselves
In due time
Waiting.
Fading.
A casualty of my feigned optimism
It is by no means an excuse
But a mere crutch that I grasp
When it starts to feel as though
I’ve been here before and therefore
I must retreat
Back to the drawing board
And decide once and for all
If I will continue to be
A prisoner to my past.

 
 
 
 

Just Another Poem

Our time has come and gone
And you have become
Just another poem
Meant to be written and
Looked upon briefly during
The moments where I feel
Obligated to reminisce since
Even the simplest of things can
Trigger a memory that seemed so
Insignificant at the time but
Leaps onto the page
Extending on a lapse in judgment
A period of weakness
And you have become
Just another recited line
Meant to be spoken of, not to
And never heard from again
A fond cognitive error
I have given you space to take up
A short time to continue to linger
To free up the amount
That you have taken from me.