You don't see how you've hurt me.
You don't see my pain.
You don't see why I'm so afraid,
Afraid of you, afraid of talking to you.
You don't see your mistake.
You don't see your failure.
You don't see anyone but yourself, do you?

I hate this feeling.
Of worthlessness
Of pity
Of "I told you so"
Of being used.

Especially when it's from you.

22 hours.
That's how far away I am from home.
I was ****** into a whole new environment,
Half the time, I'm freezing.
and the other half,
I swear Michigan is winning over my heart.

And that's ok.

I want to say something loud and clear tonight.
I am me.
I am Caitlin Moody.
Born and raised Floridian,
Singer, French Horn player
Poet.
Roommate, Friend.
I often care too much,
I love too much.
I get hurt,
I fall.
But see the thing is,
I always get up.
Always.

I've been told that I care too much.
And this is actually true.
My heart is too big,
Too open,
Too willing to simply give.
That I need to pull back some,
I come off too strong.

Its very hard for me to hate someone,
It's just something that I do.
You can hurt me,
Way down in my core,
Emotionally, Physically, Mentally
But You will still have part of my heart.

Some people say that this isn't good,
that its a curse.
How so?
I love people,
Yes, maybe more than I should.
But do people complain about loving too much?
Shouldn’t we be more concerned about those that aren’t loved enough?
Those that go through life broken, and damaged?

I am simply one person,
Who cares.
A lot for the people around me.
Strangers, people I’ve only met briefly,
Friends since birth, and yes,
Even you.

I can tell you how beautiful my roommates look when they don't even try.
I can tell you all the colors of the sunset and how tragically beautiful the bare trees look.
I can tell you how silky his voice is to my ears,
I can show you the best things in music and nature.
I can show you all the amazing parts of people's souls.
But what I can't do, is tell you of the scars that I have.
I can't tell every story of how I got each blemish on my skin.
I can't tell you what I love most about myself, but I could tell you everything I hate about myself.
I can't look at myself in the mirror for more than 2 seconds.
I don't see all those beautiful things in myself.
I just can't.

The hardest part for me about losing my dad is that I missed him for a long time even before he died.
It had been ten months since I'd even seen him. I had been calling him and leaving messages, trying to make plans with him, but he never called me back.
The only way I knew he was even still alive at the time was through my sisters.
I just kept trying, and then one day I get a phone call saying that he's dead.
That he shot himself.
That I'll never get that call back from him. That those plans I wanted to make with him would never be made.
It's like I'm waiting forever to get that call from him, and I'm never going to get it.
I can't even explain how much that breaks my heart.
I know that wasn't his intention.
That he wasn't avoiding me because he didn't love me.
It was because he was hurting so much and he didn't want me to feel it, too.
But honestly, I would have rather had him call me crying every day.
To tell me how sad he was.
It hurts me more that he didn't tell me.
That he didn't let me try to help.
And I'm not saying I would have been able to help him.
But I wish he would have let me try.
I just feel like I didn't know him at all during the last months he spent on this earth, and I wish he had given me the chance.

he is sleeping and I know how
he is grumpy if he is tired
I know when he wakes up
he'll be confused and vulnerable
I know his eyes might hurt if he forgot to
take out his contacts
i know he won't be ready to wake
even if he promised
"just five more minutes"
i know he'll be ready for a smoke as soon
as he opens his eyes
so ill wake him up with a kiss
and a joint

bhumika fulwani WAS a member of hp who has accounts on other poetry sites, and likes to steal other people's work and show it as her own.

another member of hp who wanted to remain anonymous had pointed out to me that she was using one of my poems on another site.

i was able to prove that i had written mine first and the stolen poem has now been removed.

i would strongly suggest searching for her on other sites, maybe even here, and make sure she hasn't stolen anything from you.
She recently deleted her account here. But on power poetry dot org she has an account with stolen poetry from many of you. I've seen it.