"To You Who Love Me"


by Jeph Johnson


When my days were numbered it was very important to feel as though I had the ability to be valued. To accomplish something worthy. 


Sadly, anxiety fucked all that up.


I wanted to really do something on my terms to leave a part of my legacy behind; a part of myself that was truly worthy of love: My thoughts. My fears. My ideas. My hopes. My interpretations. My rhymes. My humor. My ideals. My passions. My soul. 


Yes, my soul was pleading to be allowed the freedom to be loved, outside of this imminent nothingness.


No one recognized this part of me when I was alive, but what about after I'm gone?


My soul mate exists on another time line; my lover is stuck in a different dimension.


If you're reading this in the future: I love you. I really mean it. 


If you're reading this in the past, my apologies for not performing more poetry posthumously.


I do not simply hold you to my chest anymore because you're in my arms eternally. You're in my heart, even after it's stopped.  


Author's Notes/Comments: 


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language_game's picture

attack!... not just the

attack!... not just the Kettle One talking.

Jan9thian's picture

Very unique perspective.

Very unique perspective.


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