I think it's interesting
Interesting how I can be good enough for
only certain things
for late nights
for
whispers that leave emotions raw
for
lies
most of all for
lust
a girl good enough for
desire
but not your love
the kind of girl who gets so wrapped up in
feeling wanted
I drown in a pool of
'will he ever hold my hand'
or
'tell me I'm pretty because
Because I don't feel pretty
getting emotionally ****** monday through friday'
Between
Closed doors
and hushed moans
did I love you
and
Between
Closed doors
and hush moans
did you **** me over
Pun intended
when did
it become okay
to play with emotions
didn't you ever learn
a girls heart is never a toy?
well in this case my heart is the guitar you used
in your hand
before I became so wrapped up in making you my man
plucking my emotions with your fingers
my body are now the words once sung from your lips
and there is nothing I can do
Because I am so in tune
a guitar string is strung
like my lung
waits for your voice to fill the air
that I breathe
waiting for your heart to become a part of me
then I think to
when
You're holding her with one arm
while the other is wrapped up in my body
lying in your bed seven nights a week
and that air gets spit up
leaving my lungs empty
letting your words bend me
into the girl you want me to be
even though you refuse to see
how much I depend on your word
It's absurd
But I find it interesting how
I will only ever know your body
and not your heart
it ******* *****
because it's tearing me apart
-Pardon the language, I originally wanted to write this in all in second person, but it just flows better in first. This was a poem for a book by Ellen Hopkins for a class I had.