It Is Just A Poem

IT IS JUST A POEM ‎ ‎It is just a poem. ‎ ‎At least, ‎that is what I will call it ‎if anyone asks. ‎ ‎It is not about you. ‎It is not about me. ‎It is not about the nights ‎I stayed awake ‎trying to understand ‎why some people leave ‎and still manage to live ‎inside you. ‎ ‎It is just a poem. ‎ ‎So don't read too deeply into it. ‎ ‎When I say ‎I miss the person I used to be, ‎I am speaking metaphorically. ‎ ‎When I say ‎some memories still hurt, ‎I am talking about memories. ‎ ‎When I say ‎I am tired of losing people, ‎I am only talking about people. ‎ ‎Nothing more. ‎ ‎It is just a poem. ‎ ‎And if there is a little too much truth ‎between these lines, ‎pretend you didn't notice. ‎ ‎I have become good at hiding things ‎inside beautiful sentences. ‎ ‎A wound becomes a metaphor. ‎Loneliness becomes a stanza. ‎A goodbye becomes a full stop. ‎ ‎And somehow, ‎I get to call it art ‎instead of admitting ‎that it hurt. ‎ ‎It is just a poem. ‎ ‎So don't worry about me. ‎ ‎I am fine. ‎ ‎I have learned how to laugh ‎without meaning it, ‎how to say "I'm good" ‎without checking if I am, ‎how to miss someone ‎without reaching for them. ‎ ‎I have learned ‎that some doors close ‎without making a sound. ‎ ‎And some people leave ‎without ever knowing ‎how much of you ‎they took with them. ‎ ‎But it is just a poem. ‎ ‎Nothing serious. ‎ ‎Just words ‎arranged in a way ‎that makes sadness look beautiful. ‎ ‎Just ink. ‎ ‎Just paper. ‎ ‎Just another thing ‎I wrote ‎instead of saying ‎what I really mean. ‎ ‎So when you finish reading, ‎close the page. ‎ ‎Forget my name. ‎ ‎Forget the person ‎you think I wrote this for. ‎ ‎Forget the parts ‎that sounded too familiar. ‎ ‎It is just a poem. ‎ ‎And if you felt something ‎while reading it, ‎ ‎well... ‎ ‎that is probably ‎just a poem too. ‎