I

will never forget

how he

used us both.

I

will never forget

how

you forgave

a boy so vile.

Call

me friend, but

betray me over and over.

I

will never forget.

Sometimes
when I lay awake at night,
I think of what my heart looks like
if someone were to
cut me open.
I wonder
if he would try to break it.
I wonder
if he would sit down and intently
watch me bleed.
Probably
not. He'd walk away before I took
my last breath.

funny
how she says that you're
a different person.
you
have changed for the better;
a new you.
but
all i can remember is the vicious
version of you.
how
extremely judgmental you were;
building confidence.
the
things you belittled me for;
uncontrollable.
she
says you loved me truly
but not enough.
why
didn't you treat me like you
treat her?
you
were fighting your own demons,
which ones?
me;
you were fighting with me every night
all night.
taking
your issues out on me like they
were my fault.
i
spent my days feeling sorry
for you.
i
should have felt sorry for myself and
forgotten you.

You convinced me to go home with you
After a night of good fun
I knew I shouldn't have trusted you
How could I have been so dumb ?

It started out with a kiss
A little bitter from the wine
I was in a state of bliss
Everything was just fine

But then I froze in shock
Your hands were down my shirt
I couldn't even move
As your hand went up my skirt

I wanted you to stop
But I was petrified by your actions
The sweet man I knew
Became a monster needing satisfaction

You took what you wanted
I couldn't stop you
You left marks on my body
***** my mind too

Make like a cigarette
burn out.

-J

This is a questionable poem written because I have a whole bunch of curiosities.
I was sitting in my Arizona home like I do on cold days like today
when it occurred to me that
people today are severely lacking in pure curiosity.
I mean, sure, people are curious about some things;
What will happen if I mix drugs with alcohol? What will happen if I eat this Tide Pod?
I wonder if I'll die if I point this gun at my head and pull the trigger.
Sure, all those things are intriguing thoughts, but,
what about thoughts on pollution and world hunger? I feel like that's more important to wonder about.
Or, perhaps people could be more curious about who they really are.
What do they like? Do they know what they want from life? Why are they so mainstream?
These days I find that so many people are in it for the aesthetic.
That they're not being who they are.
Every person I have met has two faces; they remind me of the infamous Greek theatre masks.
I don't think anybody really know who they are, and I find that curious,
in a sad, peculiar, disappointing way.
It's curiously comical.