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I've said to much although I haven't said enough

To explain to you the depth of my inner trials.

there is something with in me or around me
and its been trailing me for miles.
I had to call the cops on my ex-boyfriend last Thursday:

Stop looking at me like I did something to you.
I have campus police on speed dial, if you do not leave, I will call them.
You need to stop pretending like I did something wrong to you.
I am dialing the number right now.
Look at me. Look at me! Stop looking at me like you're a victim! I didn't do anything wrong to you. I don't deserve this.
Look, it's ringing. You need to leave.
First, you need to stop looking at me like I did something wrong to you.
No. Leave.
Look at me!
Leave.

You feel a special kind of guilty when you have a stalker. You don't want to believe that someone you ever loved would to this. You really don't want to believe that someone you were ever intimate with, or someone who has pictures that you painted for them in their room would do this to you. You don't want to feel vulnerable. And you really don't want to feel that every few seconds, you need to be looking over your shoulder for them. You just want them to leave you alone.
This is pretty personal, but whatever.
Maybe some day we will dance
Holding hands in disbelief
As tears of joy
flow from our eyes
While the field of flowers
will cheer in salute
Maybe our eternity
will come to an end
And our day will come
to begin . . . just maybe

Just maybe I hope
beyond my dreams
Waiting for the one you love
All I have is a photograph
and a blank page with your name,
our lives have clearly changed,
but my heart still feels the same.

So I write down a few scattered lines,
and add a chord or two,
just trying to make new memories of you.

I'll play this song beneath the stars,
watch it dance into the sky.
If on the wind my words do fly,
then you'll hear my lullaby.

Will you look above and think of me
as a shooting star breaks through,
maybe words will make wishes come true.

Now I have a brand new page
with a picture, poem, and song.
I know it's been so long,
but my love's still standing strong.

If a picture paints a thousand words
then this poem will never do,
but I want to make new memories with you.
My desires hook themselves to
the lingering dreams of
lost kisses.
Enamelling the decrepit walls
of my
sanity,
like the soft echoes
of your last whispers,
or like a tortured memory,
drifting and unnurtured
cascading within the depths of
delirium.
To remember what never was there.
I didn't want to show you
I didn't want you to try
I can stare at the ceiling for hours
And feel like minutes have gone by
You aren't much to look at
Baby neither am I
I didn't want you to try
I really didn't want you to try

Baby can't you see
It isn't you it's just the lethargy
I can't move my limbs but I can
Move my lips
And I can talk to you
I wanna talk to you

-E (c) 2017
What's the point in leaving if I wasn't even there in the first place
I don't like loud spaces, I don't like feeling like I can't look someone in they eye because I know that they will judge me and talk about me as if I'm not present
Strangers touch me and I feel like I've been stripped down to my skeleton
They make a joke because they saw me staring into space
They knew I was present
They knew I wasn't even there
What's the point in leaving if I wasn't even there in the first place

-E (c) 2017
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