If you walk away, I'll walk away...

So I'm sure anybody who's reading this knows that an unexpected turn of events has left me single. I'm not going to delve into it a whole lot, because I don't really know if I could be very articulate about my feelings yet. However, it's a good time for poetry. Some of this is old, some of it is new.


Untitled (I wrote this about a month ago, surprisingly, before the break-up. It seems to fit though.)

Then you left my side
with that look in your eyes
afraid that you wouldn't come back.

I twiddled my thumbs
my mouth feeling numb
and my heart screaming with fear.

No more words to say
just a look and a stay
and a last long squeeze of your hand.

And I left your side
with a look in my eye
knowing it will never be the same.

Yellow Trees (This and the next one were both written within the past couple days)

We met in a place
that we'd never been,
underneath yellow trees
between two logs hidden.

And we held each other
like never before,
underneath yellow trees
on a rocky shore.

We clung onto something
that just wasn't there,
I cried on your shoulder
and you stroked my hair.

After the last kiss
and walking apart,
we turned our backs
and walked off in the dark.

My eyes kept clouding
with a vision of your face,
I fought all those details
they kept falling in place.

I felt like the scene
after a storm had gone through,
the life gone from everything
made to start anew.

Picking up my pieces
my home swept away,
I need to let go of you
but I want you to stay.

So this morning, a heavy frost
snuck into my heart,
I'm afraid if it thaws
I'll fall completely apart.

Even if it hurts
I'm letting it stay,
since underneath yellow trees,
you and your love walked away.

The Window (Yep, same rhyme scheme as the last one. Sorry.)

The window we found on walk
fall leaves beneath our boots,
it stared at us with hopeful eyes
through dust and dirt and roots.

When we walked behind the window
I was curious to see,
what was behind those hopeful eyes?
It was our future- you and me.

Now I've decided to visit
that clairvoyant place again,
the muddy prints beneath the frost
are all the leaves have left.

Those hopeful eyes still gazed at me
more melancholy in them now,
maybe it was my imagination
or the surrounding snowy boughs.

I didn't need to search behind it
to know what I wouldn't find,
I went ahead and looked there still
but to provide my peace of mind.

And I realized then
no miracle happened there,
just my own hopeful eyes
and my own hopeful stare.

The past can be forgotten
but it cannot be replaced,
bits and pieces are left standing
never to be erased.

(And that's it for now.)

The inspiration for that last one was an actual window left standing that we found one day.

Again- criticism is appreciated!
No definition of perfection this time. Heh. Kind of difficult to find that right now, although I don't doubt it exists.