There’s just so much past
hoarding under the crust,
in-between the cracks
of your fragile sense of worth
There’s just so much past
holding you by the throat
waiting for a deep, deep cleaning
waiting to be wiped away
Past
stored in playlists
on dusty CDs
stored in dusty boxes
graved with stupid music
stupid lyrics
stupid plans
stupid promises
and the stupidest games
that you’ll never play again
’cause who the hell owns a CD player ‘nowadays?
Past
carved in scribbles
in the corners of the schoolbook pages
gossip, jokes, grit and hopes
flowing through the handwriting
of your soulmate-best-friend’s notes
(Yup. The one that now looks away when running past you)
Past
sketched in the fading pictures
of the fading people
now fading away
blurring out the outlines
of who they used to be
in your memories
in their own lives
in their dimming bodies.
(Isn’t it funny when we start grieving the ones that haven’t even passed?)
Past
knitted in the fibers
of old clothes
that won’t fit on your thighs for ages
but you just can’t throw them away
’cause maybe, just maybe
one day
after losing an exact amount of weight
they will fit again
‘though they never will,
Just like all the people
that don’t fit in your life for ages
but you just can’t let them go away
’cause maybe, just maybe
one day
after gaining an exact amount of worth
they will cherish you again
‘though they never did.
Photo credits: Pexels
