sarah-deesarah
"A poet is an unhappy being whose heart is torn by secret sufferings, but whose lips are so strangely formed that when the sighs and the cries escape them, they sound like beautiful music... and then people crowd about the poet and say to him: "Sing for us soon again;" that is as much as to say, "May new sufferings torment your soul." ~Soren Kierkegaard
It's such a cruel game you play,
And she is nothing but your pawn.
You make all the moves,
And she is left at your mercy.
Sometimes your touch is gentle,
And other times you crush her.
You leave her bent and broken,
Nothing but pieces.
But she craves the gentle touch,
So she foolishly returns.
You allow her to come back,
Only to crush her once again.
Regardless how many times she plays,
She can never win the game.
Aug 1, 2017
Aug 1, 2017 at 5:26 AM UTC
Sometimes I hate her.
I hate that she was able to make you fall in love with her,
And I can barely get you to fall into bed with me.
I envy the fact that she got to experience that you,
The you that was affectionate,
The you that was happy,
The you that loved back.
I get jealous sometimes too, that she still effects you.
That her actions still make an impact.
I'm jealous that you still care about her,
In a way you will never care about me.
But I don't really hate her, I just hate that I love you,
And you still love her.
Feb 20, 2017
Feb 20, 2017 at 3:54 PM UTC
One day, I will fall out of love with you.
I'll wake up in the morning and you won't be the first thing on my mind,
Nor will you be the last thing on my mind before I drift off to sleep.
I'll no longer be worried about you when you're driving in bad weather,
And I won't have the urge to care for you when you're sick.
I'll no longer care if you had dinner or if you needed me to cook.
I won't let you cross my mind or flood my memories.
I'll no longer yearn to be held in your arms, they will bring no comfort.
I will no longer beg for your touch, in hope of receiving affection.
I'll stop making excuses for the way that you treat me,
And I'll stand up for myself like I couldn't before.
I won't forgive you, and I won't run back like I did so many times in the past.
Because finally, I will no longer be afraid of losing you.
Because I will not love you.
Nov 2, 2016
Nov 2, 2016 at 5:55 AM UTC
Today I'm going to stop loving you.
You are hard to love, but loving you is not hard.
I love the scent of your skin as I lay next to you in bed,
And the way your laughter curls at the ends of your lips,
Then erupts across your face.
I love you even when you don't love yourself.
But my love for you makes me weak.
When your sharp words are filled with anger and wrapped in bitterness,
They pierce through my heart,
I clutch my chest as the air leaves my lungs.
The pain crashes over me in continuous waves,
And I'm trying to keep my head above the water,
But the tears from my eyes are flowing like open flood gates.
And I can no longer see where I'm going, so I collapse,
Into a puddle, still gasping for air.
Nov 2, 2016
Nov 2, 2016 at 5:52 AM UTC
I can't figure out if I spend more time
Wishing that I didn't love you,
Or hoping you would love me back.
May 19, 2016
May 19, 2016 at 11:33 PM UTC
Despite what everyone says
It hasn't gotten better with time.
Apr 13, 2016
Apr 13, 2016 at 7:02 AM UTC
I've spent months trying to convince myself that I no longer love you.
I've tried insisting that being around you has no effect on me.
Yet I still can't stop myself from thinking about you every day.
Even though I know it's wrong, I can't stop myself from being around you.
Your laughter makes me smile, and in that moment I'm truly happy.
When I lay next to you all I can think about is touching you,
I close my eyes and imagine that your holding me.
As I drift off to sleep, I hope that my dreams allow what reality denies,
But even in my dreams I cannot have you.
Feb 26, 2016
Feb 26, 2016 at 11:09 AM UTC
I woke up today feeling lonely,
As if my dreams used up all my happiness.
I look at the time, ten-thirty.
I feel the hollowness creeping into my chest,
I try to fall back into a peaceful sleep,
But it's to late, ten-fifty.
So I get out of bed to begin my day,
Knowing that the emptiness will linger.
Jan 5, 2016
Jan 5, 2016 at 2:11 PM UTC
Not a day goes by where I don't miss you.
I hate myself for being so weak,
For not being able to move forward.
There's a constant ache in my chest,
That intensifies when you come to mind.
But still I let myself day dream about you,
Even though it hurts.
Dec 30, 2015
Dec 30, 2015 at 6:10 AM UTC