I didn't mean to love you.
I didn't mean to need your kiss, or your touch, or your devotion.
I didn't mean to hope every night that you were loving me as I was you.
I didn't mean for fate to twist us together so tightly.
But I also didn't mean for you to walk away.
Do any of y'all really know me?
Can you see who I am from my poetry?
If your answer is yes, you're wrong
Even I don't know where I belong
When people ask who I am
I say I'm 26, a mother, a poet,
I basically just read my bio
But you've all read that too
Does that mean you really know?
A friend told me lately
To stop being so humble about my poetry
I don't like to come off sounding cocky
He says I'm damn good at what I do
But not every poem is about you
Not every word is always true
Sometimes, they're just words written in ink
To give you an idea, to really make you think....
But my poetry doesn't define me
Doesn't show you who I am inside
Sure, you've read about my heartaches
And all the nights I've cried
But nothing I write,
Can show you the inner workings of my mind
So, please don't think you really know me
Based solely on all my posted poetry
Because, to be honest, I'm not even sure who I am
And I know me, better than all of you
But please continue to read and comment
Because I'd love to know the truth
About what you all really think of me
Honestly, y'all have really helped me through
don't say you love me,
when you don't even know me,
I will be attacked by fake I missed you's
and uncomfortable, unnecessary hugs,
I can't miss strangers,
the same strangers that filled my living room this time last year,
the same strangers,
that give me things I dislike,
and have nothing to talk about with,
because they know nothing about me,
hangs in the constellations,
on the night you stopped by,
because no one looks hard enough to understand,
what they are,
to understand who I am,
you repress your emotion,
like you clench nimble fingers,
I see it,
from our name,
you claim you love me,
but I am not a fool,
I don't understand the love you claim,
for you use it like a tool,
that seeing me,
once a year,
because of your,
of not knowing,
about your little sister,
as a relationship.