Aware Of Sounds

Listen, everything has a different personality and sounds.

I always love you

and your little white lies

that you said

just to look me in the eyes

when you wanted to hear my voice

for just one last time.

 

Am I going to cry

when I'm all alone

sitting, re-reading

everything that I misread?

How about when you look at me

and whisper your goodbyes?

 

At least you will be able to see

my eyes when you

walk out on me.

 

Me and my stubborn-ness

mourning here alone,

over all our memories

that keep haunting me.

I switch the pictures down,

listen to the crying sounds,

that I beg of you

to help me put on mute.

Author's Note

I wrote this poem just as one long thing, but I decided to break it up into stanzas. Comments?