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Marhia Cruz Feb 2016
If I could tell you how I feel, it would be a mess.
I would start with what I think of you.
When I think of you...
I wish you were a better person.
That you had better opinions.
That you considered others more.
Then I'd tell you how you make me feel.
When I see you, my mind goes blank and whispers your name.
My eyes blur and focus on your face.
They push liquid memories down my cheeks and flush away all thoughts.
My heart sings softly of your touch.
I wish what I feel has reason.
Why do I love you? You're not great. You barely pass "good."
Yet you pass right through me. All my defenses. All my security.
My love remembers you.
But I wish I could forget.
Forget you were here. Forget you exist. Forget you are important.
I wish I could fix myself. Fix these thoughts with a figurative hammer and shatter those ******-tear-stained glass string that attach me to your back, where memories pull me towards you.
Remember when you told me there was nothing wrong with me?
That I'm perfection solidified, personified?
I remember... when I think about how much I hate you. When I see reasons that you're nothing special. Nothing great. You're not a good person, oh, no. But I remember...
How you're good to me.
But you weren't really?
Remember when I doubted your loyalty? How I thought you were my mistake?
When I thought you could never purposely try to hurt me, or anyone.
Then we did what we did.
And now I can believe it.
I thought you were faultless.
I thought you were amazing. Flawless. Perfection personified.
Why do I still feel it?
Why can't I let go?
You're nothing special.
Nothing good.
Remember when you held my hand, after all these years?
When you saw me for me? When it was just you and I.
Just you and I. There was nothing anymore.
No worries. No time.
No time to be just us.
Everything but time froze. Everything but the world.
I wish I could forget you.
Everything about you.
I wish I could love again.
I only titled it that way cuz I'm a really big mess when it comes to him. You'll notice by now that most of my poems are about this one guy. This one unimportant little **** that my heart refuses to leave be. Maybe someday it will. But for now, it still hopes for something. Anything to bring him back to me.

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