The Last Poem I Wrote About You

painting by Naomi Okubo:

The greatness lies in the words.
The scribble of an ink on paper
could easily be what your mind is screaming in your closeted head
or the thumping in your chest.
Why does the brain let us think that it is the heart that is the greater, while all it does is pump blood in our veins, on its own instruction?
Why do I think you are the greatest, when you just told me things I should have known last year, or the year before it?
I should have told myself that I am a caring person
and I am a sweet girl and I dont deserve anyone making any less of it.
I don’t deserve myself making any less of it.
You are different, for not who you are because you are just another lesson on a boring school day.
No, you are different because I thought you could’ve been.
But damnit, you just had to twist your words with your action.

I had a good time while it lasted.
I had a great time while you were there.
And then it was time for us to leave.
You could’ve enjoyed the good bye, been less hasty,
I wouldn’t have minded.
I could’ve complained less.
We are who we are.
You are who you are.
But it was my pleasure that you stopped by.

Painting Courtesy: Naomi Okubo

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