Taught to think a partner is happiness
But never being truly happy with ourselves when we are a partner
Constantly trying to be better than the pornstars, models of his dreams
And let’s be real
Better than his mother
Sometimes I drive so far down the highway of my mental illness
My loneliness becomes my whole.
I’m just spinning in circles
Looking for signs
Looking for the road map.
I spent three weeks stewing in disbelief
Sweating us from my pores
Today the fever broke
But my body still aches from the chills
I’m exhausted from having and losing you.
These are a few lines from a poem I wrote a year ago that I like as a stand-alone.
I wanted to call you
But I know you don’t want to hear from me
You say you’re always “straight up”
And “you’ll see me in December”
I wanted to hurt you
But I know I don’t matter enough for you to feel me.
You say you “really like me”
And “you wish your mindset was different”
I want you
But I know it’s a mistake
Every thought runs through my eyes
He reads my face
And repeats back my biggest fears to me loud and clear
“Yes I can tell your lost”
“Yes I know I’m perfect for you but you’re too afraid”
“Yes your ******* this up”
Takes the reigns right from my hands unbothered and leaves me shaking in the passenger seat.
For as long as I can remember I’ve been damaged
Sad eyes that only appear more beautiful with a glassy film of tears.
For as long as I can remember it’s been difficult for me to love or be loved.
I always feel so close to many but never truly connected to one
For as long as I can remember I’ve been disappointing
To myself who is never satisfied until I’m writhing in pain
But even then, I’m breathless.
Something I found in my notebook.
It’s these moments that still shock me
As much as a Sunday school girl past
When I close my eyes and see flashes of me
And hair pulled
And *** smacked
As much as I want to be virtuous. I’m just not that kind of Mary it seems.