Beyond You

Mar 26, 2011 in , ,

A/N: I'd previously named this "Could I Survive?" but I think this name suits it better. This time, I'm posting the first draft as well as the final one because I like both. The last has more in it, but the first is rawer, and I like that in a poem. All opinions and interpretations would be wonderful.

First draft:

It feels like it’s time, like it’s finally right
To write down the words that are forming in my mind,
Because one more poem like this will leave
The list of poems I’ve written for you one poem too long.

Yet I still can’t bring myself to say goodbye,
And write the closing letters to my last poem to you…
Almost.

I think I’m ready to write those last lines;
The butterflies you used to give me have long gone,
Changing into something stronger, something different,
And something that requires no more love poems.

I have to say goodbye to my love for you,
For me to ever move on.
Maybe I already have, but until I write those last lines,
It’ll never feel like a proper goodbye.

***

Final draft:

The butterflies have long been gone, my heart already flown far away.
It finally feels right, to write down all those words
That have formed a million times over, in my mind,
Because even just one more
Will leave the list of poems I’ve written for you
One line too long.

Yet I still feel like there’s so much more I need to say;
So much more I need to explain about how I loved you,
That I can’t bring myself to end those last few lines,
Because once the last word has been written
I will not permit myself to revisit the days
When writing love poems for you was all I knew.

Now all I want to do is forget, but moving on seems
Like just a step back, because what then I will I be left to muse on?
Love poems are nothing without a story behind them,
And poems of heartbreak only dredge up the past.

Without the memory of what I wished had became,
I don’t know if writing another poem could ever be possible.
But without a proper farewell to my love for you,
Truly moving on could never be accomplished…

Which is worse, I can’t even tell.
Is there a way that I could have both, just this once?
Is there a way for me to survive beyond my last poem for you?