Eulogy for Yesterday

This poem is not about you.

It is not about the way the sunshine sparkles in your eyes. It is not about the velvety way you say things. It is absolutely not about the way it feels to have your hair curl around my finger as we lay beneath the stars. This poem is not a reflection of how you've changed my life completely, nor is it a constellation of confusing memories we've shared. It is not a poem of the way you stare. It is not a hopeful wish for our own fleeting story to continue. It is not a dark memory of your feeble attempts to scare me away, hidden somewhere in the back of my mind. This is not me yearning for our something to unbreak.

This poem is not for you.

Perhaps it's a eulogy for the people we used to be. For the kids who got to know each other in trees. For us lost adults wandering alone in anguish, dripping in nostalgia. Maybe this poem is for me, the tiny one in the back of your brain who has no say. It's a rest in peace for the innocence the world has stolen from us. The innocence you've stolen from me. We both know, though, that if you asked I'd give it to you again. And again. This is a goodbye note to the person I was before you. A warning for who I am now. It's for the particular happiness I won't ever see again, for the broken pieces of the past that we both long for.