Dear Oliver James,
I remember scribbling your name onto blank pages,
You were surrounded by hearts, flowers,
And, the comfort of luscious blankets of love.
But, now; you're just another name scratched off my notebook,
I'm back to that young girl with endless scribbles,
Scribbled words,
Echoed thoughts.
I can't help but feel this frustration,
The pain that sears its way through my pulse,
I'm done with this emotion,
I'm tired of the fight,
I'm ready for their cool hands to take mine and guide me towards a a tunnel of endless night.
Change is nice,
Change is good;
Change is new,
Change is for the hopeless fools.
Exhausted,
Beaten,
Degraded,
I give up.
I hope you're happy,
I hope you're in utter bliss,
I'm done.
Done with all of this,
All of this chaos,
All of this unsettled emotions,
All of the confused thoughts.
Just leave.
And, to think I could've, would've, should've...
A lot of "what if's"
What if we were just another perfect storm?
Sincerely,
A World of Lingering Possibility
