Little girl, there are many things you will be.
but,
Broken at the hands of a man is not any of them.
Oct 31, 2017
Oct 31, 2017 at 6:14 PM UTC
Sometimes, the only person who will be around to pick you up
off the floor
and run you a warm bath will be yourself;
and that's okay.
Oct 19, 2017
Oct 19, 2017 at 5:27 AM UTC
*I was always too much of something for everybody
But it was quite a surprise to find
That I wasn't enough for you*
Jun 6, 2016
Jun 6, 2016 at 5:01 PM UTC
What started out with hesitation
ended with a love
that caused a devastating pain
that will last a long time
it scared my heart and terrified my mind
spending a whole lifetime
waiting for the right time
to meet that perfect person
your match, your lifeline
just to find out you were wrong
the whole-time.
Jun 6, 2016
Jun 6, 2016 at 5:00 PM UTC
I've written a dozen poems about you, the curve of your lips when you smile, the glow in your eyes and the spark in your touch.
I've written even more poems about you leaving.
The pain of being left lovelorn,
And the vast emptiness you left behind.
Now I want to write again.
But there just aren't any words left to say, the ink in my pen has run dry. Because now it doesn't hurt so much, my mind doesn't wander off to you as often as it used to and now you're just more of a dull ache in my chest as compared to the singeing fire you used to be. I don't write to you anymore.
This is farewell.
May 30, 2016
May 30, 2016 at 4:13 PM UTC
let me cover you in the darkest cloak
made of pain and marijuana smoke
and let me lift its hood over your innocent mind
so you can search for the answers that i could never find
you can't imagine someone hurting so badly
but darling, this pain is my own
so many times i have fallen in love ever so madly
and then was stripped and skinned down to the bone
betrayal was my oxygen
and every breath i took was a stab to the back
And every bruise on my skin was a skill I lacked
I was never good enough, so I strived for silence, obedience and skill
but no matter what I did
I'm not good enough
Not good enough, still.
Feb 8, 2016
Feb 8, 2016 at 9:03 AM UTC
I am a poet because of you.
It's the way your being
delivered a tidal wave of
poetic awakening to my
once dull veins.
Your lips watered
the flowers in my tongue
that were once called prose
but now they developed into poems.
Your fingers latched
perfectly into mine and
your nerves reacted to my nerves so right
and in that moment I knew our hands were designed for each other.
And although
your tongue left my tongue
and your hand left my hand,
the diabolical mixture of your blissful and painful memories
kept the flowers in my tongue alive.
Soon enough, the flowers
crawled through my arms and hands,
begging me to write
the poetry that they bring.
You will never read this
but I forever thank you,
for I will always be a poet
because of you.
Feb 8, 2016
Feb 8, 2016 at 8:57 AM UTC
I realized that I was afraid falling in love because I'm afraid of falling out of love.
Feb 6, 2016
Feb 6, 2016 at 2:10 PM UTC