Even if I can never have you
I am proud that I love you.
I wrote a lot of poems about you.
Scratched enough ink onto paper to fill oceans.
Funny thing is you were so fleeting
Just a brief moment in this last year.
There were moments I loved you
And moments I hated you
And everything inbetween
And whenever I sat to write a poem
It was your face I sketched out in ink.
And I don’t know if you know that.
But its really not that important to me anymore.
Because you’re gone
And I’m still writing.
I thought you were my muse
The one from whom all my inspiration flowed.
But I realized it was me experiencing the life you created
That gave me inspiration.
The whole time it came from me.
So I could write a thousand more poems about you.
I could fill another seven seas with ink
And it still wouldn’t matter.
Because even if you’re the face I’m sketching
I’m the one holding the pen.