What to do when you don't know what to do anymore: a beginners guide to how to repair emotional impairment**

1. stop trying to force yourself to write romantic poetry and listen to romantic music like you used to and think about him when you write it [[i'm thinking of him now]]. the spark that you saw in his eye and the flame that burned through your chest and touched your heart is gone, don't try to start it again [[even though i want to]].

2. accept the fact that maybe that flame was never there to begin with [[but i thought it was]]

3. take every single **** moment you two have ever had, everything he has ever told you, all the memories [[and the hugs and smiles, the jokes and the laughter, the way you remember his eyes lighting up like lightning when you would make him laugh]] you keep replaying whenever you see his eyes even if it's just for a moment, all the stupid texts that he's sent you at one, two, three am about life, and try to get over them [[ignore that you've been trying so **** long already]]. don't shove them to the back of your mind because you're too scared to let go [[im scared]] and don't push them to the front of your mind so that you can just sulk over the fact that they are gone and ended and you two don't act like you used to around each other anymore [[but i wish we did]]

4. delete those songs that remind you of him [[but its all of them]] and get new one for new memories that are promised in the summer kissed air outside of your constrained bedroom that has heard all of your nightmares and seen all of your tears [[and all of the hatred]]  

5. try to move on [[but i cant]] and dont be afraid to let down the walls of your heart again. don't put your walls up to begin with anymore [[i thought he was different but he wasnt]] because you know that you have to be the strong, independent, beautiful girl everyone sees [[but i can't be her]] so that you can win over his heart with a single swift smile and eyes that gleam like the last summer sunset he saw

6. try to repiece your broken self and try to have fun [[im too damaged]] and smile in the mirror at yourself because in the end he does not matter to you anymore [[yes he does]] and so what if he is starting to forget you? you can forget him too [[but i cant]]. dont be lonely [[im so ******* lonely]] because you choose to just focus on him; allow yourself to be loved by every inch of someone else, from their golden soul to their golden heart [[who can love someone this broken?]]

7. stop with the "i'm fine's" and be honest [[lying with my smile is the best tool]] because he will listen [[when he wants to]]

and finally,

8. acknowledge that you are a [**]t, [pe]rfect, al[l]uring, [e]nthu[s]ia[s]tic girl

Lately, I've seen poems trending about how no one should fall in love with a poet, nor should they make a poet helplessly fall in love with them. However, something no one has mentioned yet is what occurs too often: stealing from a poet.

When a poet writes a poem, that poem is the perfect combination of metaphors and imagery created by them for you -- a compilation so beautifully intricate that you can get lost by reading merely a few words, overtaken by an empathetic tide that you did not think would come to the corners of your eyes when you sat down and opened your book or tab or paper.

This is the beauty of poems; they express words that many cannot say in any other variation of any way. Ask a poet to describe their emotions and they will beg you for paper and pen, a computer and a keyboard. And these poems eventually combine to become a part of the poet.

The poems a poet writes become a part of themselves.

That being said, it is not okay to take away from a poet what is rightfully theirs. You do not steal from a poet because you are searching for an idea, or because you would like to go trending. Stealing is not poetry. Stealing is not beautiful.

We are a community of people with a love more affable for poetry than for ourselves, and we should all respect all the pieces, because if we do then we are accepting and respecting each other.

So I ask you from the bottom of my heart, do not steal from a poet any longer if you have, or at all if you have not. Your pieces are your own raw emotions, not mine. My pieces are my own raw emotions, not yours.

I don't know whether I am full of emotion or just **numb

never did i believe that the biggest compliment
that would ever leave my lips for you
was the image that i created of you and who i thought
you were

and honestly, i think that might be the biggest compliment
anyone's ever given you

i painted you as someone who could cure every broken part of me
but in reality you are ignorant of this broken side, and ignorant of the
true pain of sadness - of complete loneliness

and in your ignorance you found a way to get under
my skin and remind me that i am a human and i have
emotions

you found a way to remind me of the flaws that i
cannot forget no matter how hard i try

and i dont know if i can forgive you for that.

I don't care
what your
intentions or
concerns
may be.

At this point,

I no longer
want to be
a part
of your
outcome.

You wanna know what hurts me more than crying myself to sleep
because I think I'll never be good enough?

Knowing that when he talks he says no one loves him, when I
have told him repeatedly that I do.

But maybe he's right -- after all, I'd consider myself no one, too.