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skylar-fitzgerald
Just a girl , trying to remember how to write poetry.
Flattered by their gaze Fueled by a drunken summer daze You think yourself a wonder For young men to ponder You believe yourself unique The first to ever catch his eye Love at first sight More in love with the idea of his adoration than him He more in love with the thrill of the chase than the catch The newness of your union fades And his eyes begin to graze The adoration that fueled you Now consumes you Desperate to be worshiped You arm your warship Prepared to take your self-esteem back He never had it You try to leave on a whim, To chase another him But you’ve become a piece of his pride A status symbol He screams in your face Tells you that you’re nothing His eyes filled with craze He pushes you At the bottom of the stairs You can still feel the stares Of the boys you thought adored you Boys who could have loved you Were you always meant to be a trophy? To increase the ego of any man that owned you He rushes down, to see what he has done. You feel more shame than pain. You and he For the first time see The flaw in your union It was merely an illusion You thought obsession Desperation And lust Were a must Foolish Girl
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Aug 1, 2016
Aug 1, 2016 at 1:20 AM UTC
Foolish Girl
I think the moments I feel most alone are within the first few hours of his departure. The house filthy scattered with the whirlwind of our being The smell of him lingering in my bed The feeling of his lips still on mine The memory of his laugh bouncing around my mind Those moments directly after feeling whole After feeling the intensity of his presence The silence is almost deafening The vast emptiness left in his wake rocks me to my core Silence I'm so desperate to fill the room with noise To destroy the silence Music TV Running water Anything to not feel the crushing weight of it all Nothing touches it Nothing cracks I'm alone I remember thinking it made you weak to regard someone the way I do him To be surrounded by people and yet feel alone without him To desperately count the day until I see him again The way I pathetically wait on his response to inane questions Wondering if his soul aches for mine, if he feels the way I do In the end it doesn't matter if he feels exactly the way I do I am whole with him Love always presents with uncertainty, fragility, and a touch of modesty The knowledge of fleeting love keeps you uncertain The ending of other relationships reminds you of its fragility The urge to protect your pride keeps you modest, afraid to boast This is not love, its more It is being complete It is friendship It is trust It is us.
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Aug 1, 2016
Aug 1, 2016 at 1:16 AM UTC
Him