mob - Hello Poetry

I do all I can to forget. I harden my heart and steel my mind against the moments and memories that batter against all my defenses. but the dull weapons I use to remove myself from this reality forced upon me - they are weak and of no use, no use against the piercing words spoken - first to woo and then to forsake - the roving hands attached to the same arms that pushed me away in the same breath. I can not forget.

0

Jan 23, 2012

Jan 23, 2012 at 11:40 PM UTC

forget

I do all I can to forget. I harden my heart and steel my mind against the moments and memories that batter against all my defenses. but the dull weapons I use to remove myself from this reality forced upon me - they are weak and of no use, no use against the piercing words spoken - first to woo and then to forsake - the roving hands attached to the same arms that pushed me away in the same breath. I can not forget.

17

and maybe this is the real reason I hold on to a bitter heart: it is the only strength I have. I mean, what kind of woman am I? that I would let a man I loved so much who found the strings that led to the deepest part of me take the things that made me most alive? but no, he didn't take them. I gave them to him, forced them on him, and died when he left out of sheer need to survive. what kind of woman am i? the kind who holds on to a bitter heart as if she were holding onto life.

0

Jan 20, 2012

Jan 20, 2012 at 12:59 AM UTC

Untitled

and maybe this is the real reason I hold on to a bitter heart: it is the only strength I have. I mean, what kind of woman am I? that I would let a man I loved so much who found the strings that led to the deepest part of me take the things that made me most alive? but no, he didn't take them. I gave them to him, forced them on him, and died when he left out of sheer need to survive. what kind of woman am i? the kind who holds on to a bitter heart as if she were holding onto life.

16

Every time I look up, I look for you. Every letter I open Every call I receive. I hold on to a desperate hope That you'll have realized you love me That your regret of letting me go Will overcome your stubbornness. But that's assuming you feel some regret... you never come, and the letters are never from you, and you never call. I continue, alone, Hoping with an empty hope, Dreaming an empty dream. I wake up every day from my stupor knowing I'm still on my own that all it will ever be is just pretending. But I still look for you, I still wait for you even if it means I'll be alone.

0

Jan 4, 2012

Jan 4, 2012 at 11:25 PM UTC

ltr 24

Every time I look up, I look for you. Every letter I open Every call I receive. I hold on to a desperate hope That you'll have realized you love me That your regret of letting me go Will overcome your stubbornness. But that's assuming you feel some regret... you never come, and the letters are never from you, and you never call. I continue, alone, Hoping with an empty hope, Dreaming an empty dream. I wake up every day from my stupor knowing I'm still on my own that all it will ever be is just pretending. But I still look for you, I still wait for you even if it means I'll be alone.

21

does it matter that I miss you? does it matter that I still think you're funny? does it matter that I still love your smile, the way you talk the way you laugh? does it matter that I still love you? does it matter that I'm sorry? does it matter that I can name a million things I would have done differently? what does it matter? what does any of it matter? none of it made any difference. what did I need to be so that you would have kept loving me? cooler, more distant? thinner, or less flippant? or perhaps not so opinionated and messy. but what does it matter?

0

Dec 27, 2011

Dec 27, 2011 at 11:54 PM UTC

ltr 23.

does it matter that I miss you? does it matter that I still think you're funny? does it matter that I still love your smile, the way you talk the way you laugh? does it matter that I still love you? does it matter that I'm sorry? does it matter that I can name a million things I would have done differently? what does it matter? what does any of it matter? none of it made any difference. what did I need to be so that you would have kept loving me? cooler, more distant? thinner, or less flippant? or perhaps not so opinionated and messy. but what does it matter?

16

I remember that time riding in the car with you when you were so excited to be with me, you called ours a healthy relationship. There was another time and we were in the car and you told me about a girl from your past - how you didn't answer when she called because you thought she was trying to start something. I was glad then. I was glad I was different. But now, to you, I'm just like her. You have put me in the same category. Now you put on your defenses when I'm around. You hide yourself behind your fortified walls. And I stand on the other side, remembering what it was like to stand with you. I run my hands along them. And they feel so cold. I stare at those walls. I keep staring, my heart sinking, anxiety creeping creeping up through my skin. I dig my hands into the earth, searching for something to hold on to as I stare at those walls, those bitter walls, remembering what it was like to be with you inside them.

0

Dec 26, 2011

Dec 26, 2011 at 11:27 PM UTC

walls

I remember that time riding in the car with you when you were so excited to be with me, you called ours a healthy relationship. There was another time and we were in the car and you told me about a girl from your past - how you didn't answer when she called because you thought she was trying to start something. I was glad then. I was glad I was different. But now, to you, I'm just like her. You have put me in the same category. Now you put on your defenses when I'm around. You hide yourself behind your fortified walls. And I stand on the other side, remembering what it was like to stand with you. I run my hands along them. And they feel so cold. I stare at those walls. I keep staring, my heart sinking, anxiety creeping creeping up through my skin. I dig my hands into the earth, searching for something to hold on to as I stare at those walls, those bitter walls, remembering what it was like to be with you inside them.

26

It was a surprise to see him. He appeared there, as if materializing from her thoughts. And his shirt matched her dress exactly. It was a stab to the heart to see him at that play. The play they had talked about seeing when they were still together. It was as if fate were mocking her, reminding her of how things never turn out the way you want them to. She was standing in a group of women when he walked up to them, just to be polite, and her roommate gave her a knowing look. She voiced the bitter thought about his shirt matching her dress as he engaged one of the women in polite conversation, but she immediately regretted it. Had he heard? He made no indication that he had, but she thought he had seen that look her roommate gave her. She wondered what he was thinking - would he think she had made her roommate hate him, that she had wanted that? He started to walk away, and her heart started to sink. But in that next moment, without even being aware of making the decision, she followed him to the refreshment stand. She just wanted to talk to him, without anyone else around. But it was an unsatisfying conversation. She could feel every defense he had, used against her. In those moments she knew she still wanted him back, but in those same moments knew it didn't matter. This event was only further confirmation that in real life, fairy tales end cruelly and true love was a reality reserved for other, more deserving girls. This event would only show up in her long history of hearts broken and hopes dashed. When he walked back to his seat, away from her, she knew, once again, the pain of love unrequited.

0

Dec 26, 2011

Dec 26, 2011 at 11:06 PM UTC

more of an anecdote

It was a surprise to see him. He appeared there, as if materializing from her thoughts. And his shirt matched her dress exactly. It was a stab to the heart to see him at that play. The play they had talked about seeing when they were still together. It was as if fate were mocking her, reminding her of how things never turn out the way you want them to. She was standing in a group of women when he walked up to them, just to be polite, and her roommate gave her a knowing look. She voiced the bitter thought about his shirt matching her dress as he engaged one of the women in polite conversation, but she immediately regretted it. Had he heard? He made no indication that he had, but she thought he had seen that look her roommate gave her. She wondered what he was thinking - would he think she had made her roommate hate him, that she had wanted that? He started to walk away, and her heart started to sink. But in that next moment, without even being aware of making the decision, she followed him to the refreshment stand. She just wanted to talk to him, without anyone else around. But it was an unsatisfying conversation. She could feel every defense he had, used against her. In those moments she knew she still wanted him back, but in those same moments knew it didn't matter. This event was only further confirmation that in real life, fairy tales end cruelly and true love was a reality reserved for other, more deserving girls. This event would only show up in her long history of hearts broken and hopes dashed. When he walked back to his seat, away from her, she knew, once again, the pain of love unrequited.

4

I pushed so hard to get an answer the truth was that nothing you could say would make me free nothing you could say would change a thing. Nothing you could say would make it alright that I wanted you when you didn't want me.

0

Dec 13, 2011

Dec 13, 2011 at 10:54 PM UTC

closure

I pushed so hard to get an answer the truth was that nothing you could say would make me free nothing you could say would change a thing. Nothing you could say would make it alright that I wanted you when you didn't want me.

6

I talk a big talk when you're around. Yes. Around you I act so happy - and part of that is true, because it's you and you're around. But I talk a big talk. I can't help it. Something inside me turns on that has to be strong When on the inside things are twisting, so painfully wretching. Inside is this monster of jealousy, when you're around. It captures me. and trust becomes untrustworthy when you're around (her). But when you're around, something in me breathes that deep breath of what it used to be. When you're around it's hard to see you leave. And I can't look you in the eye, when mine betray me. All the strength that I had mustered will melt away like nothing, and you'll see what's underneath: You'll see I am not free - and the longing that entangles me when you're around.

0

Dec 13, 2011

Dec 13, 2011 at 12:11 AM UTC

when you're around

I talk a big talk when you're around. Yes. Around you I act so happy - and part of that is true, because it's you and you're around. But I talk a big talk. I can't help it. Something inside me turns on that has to be strong When on the inside things are twisting, so painfully wretching. Inside is this monster of jealousy, when you're around. It captures me. and trust becomes untrustworthy when you're around (her). But when you're around, something in me breathes that deep breath of what it used to be. When you're around it's hard to see you leave. And I can't look you in the eye, when mine betray me. All the strength that I had mustered will melt away like nothing, and you'll see what's underneath: You'll see I am not free - and the longing that entangles me when you're around.

25

I'm so lonely, I write these poems for you even though you don't know me and I don't know you. You'll never know my name. Or who they're about. You'll never know my family or my face. But that's the comfort of anonymity. To say here what can never be said aloud. To feel here What is too hard to feel with them. Because I know I'll never really be "in" I know I'll never belong to them to him to anyone. To be heard, but not known. To be seen, but not judged. To speak aloud in the dark. I'm lonely, so I write here, for you because you'll never know me.

0

Nov 29, 2011

Nov 29, 2011 at 11:18 PM UTC

anonymity

I'm so lonely, I write these poems for you even though you don't know me and I don't know you. You'll never know my name. Or who they're about. You'll never know my family or my face. But that's the comfort of anonymity. To say here what can never be said aloud. To feel here What is too hard to feel with them. Because I know I'll never really be "in" I know I'll never belong to them to him to anyone. To be heard, but not known. To be seen, but not judged. To speak aloud in the dark. I'm lonely, so I write here, for you because you'll never know me.

22

The things he Remembered - they stained his memory - things that could not be Undone, unsaid; the monster he saw her turn into. She had hoped that it would not be so. But it was Too late. Nothing can change how he sees her now. Nothing can change what she's become.

0

Nov 16, 2011

Nov 16, 2011 at 1:23 AM UTC

trust

The things he Remembered - they stained his memory - things that could not be Undone, unsaid; the monster he saw her turn into. She had hoped that it would not be so. But it was Too late. Nothing can change how he sees her now. Nothing can change what she's become.

6