It’s the perfect crime when you forget an existence When the juice of the ripe becomes the blood of the rotting The seasons change And how the cold can throw its bitter claws at open wounds How I had so quickly forgotten the familiar To taste the warmth of another To return home in the bliss of truth-accepting Had I forgotten the wonders of indifference? Had I ever known? Feeling one and returning to the other to sweeten the sweeter It’s always useless to ponder the past But let me dwell Let me wallow Let me cry Who are you to steal the stagnant winters And force me to spring? When all I wanted to do was Pretend you weren’t real You stole the beauty of our world And just like those before you (Seven feet, one hundred pounds) You embodied defined beauty but never made it your own You forged truths across our lips, and I believed your eyes Then the butterflies died in the return to winter And I pretended you weren’t real.
Great poem, I had to read it twice. I did make a few very minor corrections, just where you broke a line where it isn't natural to do so. Changes are in bold.
sorry about the breakage, those were supposed to be full lines, but the copy and paste didnt work so well. thanks for replying though.
