Sincerely, Jennifer x

It’s only over,
that’s all.
Memories exist,
but taste oh so bland.

It’s only over,
you know.
I’ll remember you,
like I remember Hastings beach on a sunny day,
when I dug myself into the sand with a sullen, tear soaked face and begged to stay.

It’s only over,
I guess.
I have nothing to cry about but everything.
I write your name in the margins of my notebooks when my mind is absent,
ruining my best pen with furious, frustrated scribbles to cover it when my mind returns,
but I’m not thinking about it too deeply.

It’s only over,
I say.
It’s not the end of the world.
I’ll never see the end of the world.
The Earth does not shatter or explode when I remember,
but a small knot is tied inside my stomach,
and I recall that day on the beach,
just a child who didn’t understand that happy days only contain the same twenty four hours as sad ones.