“You’re not with me anymore,”
I remind myself every night,
and the day after.
I say I’m fine,
and I actually am.
I’m fine with this missing piece of me,
I’m used to feeling so desolated.
What keeps me up late at nights,
and distracts me in the light of the day,
are the memories tatooed on my mind,
that I want to wipe off and yet,
I want to remember everything.
These memories are my solace
and my torment.
P.S.-
What did you think of this poem? Did you relate to it? did it make you feel something? Comment below!

Nice.
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Thank you 🙂
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Very relatable poem lovely, I admire how you admit you are used to a part of you missing and that it’s tattooed memories, that made the missing piece the most revealed and permanent part. To have that is a representation that you are strong enough to carry those scars of the past to make it through the future, this is beautifully written🌹. This can be felt, tattooed memories are present survival steps.❤️
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Like always, you get me… Thank you Roy 🙂
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We get each other. You’re amazing🌹
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Thank you and so are you 🙂
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Not more than you, but I’ll take it 😉
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🙂
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