You Lost Me Poem by Leah Ayliffe

All day I wake and sleep, sleep and wake
Stress is suffocating me in my blankets
Clinging to my pillow drenched with anxiety.
This was not how it was going to be.
The dreams themselves were not nightmares per say,
And they were most definitely not about him.
Yet 'he' is all that reeks around my mind when I wake with nerve wrecking emotion.
A small reminder came the other day, that I will not be remembered as the thornless rose I was once named.
It puts my ego to shame, but I've been carrying on just fine without the title.
It was going to be so different.
Nobody cares, and I think we've finally crossed the threshold that I didn't believe existed or dwelled inside.
We are past the point of no return.
I cannot do this waiting game when there is nothing left to wait for except memories that I hold inside a birthday card, words of a poem telling a tale of my own perfection in being just who I am.
The man who wrote such things is long dead and I need to let it go. He wont come back here, and I wont be able to forget if his ghost does return.
I don't want to know the answers. But maybe I can learn in the questions.
The anxiety and stress melts off my skin as rock and roll blares from the speakers like a lullaby for my insanity.
Rock and roll will never die.
I need a cigarette, a lighter, and a garbage can.
Maybe today will be the day I can light and watch the words burn in flames into the past for eternity.
Maybe today I can say good bye and mean it.
Let the fire take care of the rest, and blow away the ashes of the dead.
I don't want to remember, it's my turn to forget.
It's too late.
You lost me.