I feel that this is incomplete, but the love that this poem is about, is too.
i still ballet,
sometimes,
the song,
it feels like my heartbeat,
sounds alive,
says stories,
that now haunt me.
we're not who we used to be,
just like the song that,
slowly evaporates,
all I see is ghosts of us,
loving, laughing, fighting,
until the end of it.
i wish I had done things differently,
I wish you had too,
but when it comes to us,
lovers of romantic tragedies,
our story was destined to be one too.
and i was the one,
left to tell our story,
but that does not mean,
that I don't ache for your presence,
whenever the moon dances.
the love,
you filled in me,
is a hole dug deep,
the void,
that i have tried to avoid,
pulls me inside,
to witness the ruins of what,
the love and the loss,
has done to me.
i see us there,
the ghosts of our memories,
floating, sinking, fading,
i try to stop them,
but I can't touch,
what I see.
I'm afraid that as time passes,
I would have less and less memories of you,
which I cannot stop from happening,
so I still ballet,
whenever I'm trying to remember
how it feels,
to have a heartbeat.
(The inspiration:
two ghosts ~ harry styles)