i don't know what i'm doing
it is bad bad bad
but it feels so
good good good
it's like old times
but old times are what made me like this
because that is what they are - old
you let us grow stale
i know i will look back on this
and scold myself on my stupidity
because you left me once
and you will leave me again
but the worst part is
i know it
and
i am allowing it

all the "nevermind"s and "don't worry about it"s are what made our relationship crumble

you told me i would never find someone quite like you. you didn't understand that was the point.

I guess it's kind of good you broke my heart. It scared me the way I would stop breathing so I could focus on your heartbeat.
3:39 am
Nov 1

Dear 17 year old me,

You'll fall in love with a boy this year that will bring you as much happiness as pain.
You'll fall in love with his eyes, and the dimples in his smile,
And dear girl you will cry when the loneliness of his departure makes the innermost of you empty and aching.

I would tell you to run now, that when your friend tries to give you his phone number, to turn her down.

But in this pain, five years later, five years of the highest highs and the lowest lows, as I ache from the innermost of me and feel empty, in this pain I tell you do not run.

Without him, you will not have a million poems, you will not have some of the best nights of your life. You will not sleeplessly wonder what you've done wrong, or sleepily whisper your "I love yous" into his ear.

And what is love without heartbreak?
What would I be without him?

Humor me, little past self. Fall in love with him. Write poems about his eyes, write letters to him with no end. Love him. Lose him. Fight him. Love him again.

And then come back as me, twice as strong and twice as weary.

You won't regret it.

Love, you at 21.

You made a poet fall in love with you
And expected her not to write sonnets about your eyes
Haikus about the way you kissed her in the moonlight
Expected the fire in her heart not to inspire couplets
You made a poet fall in love with you, and when you left
Expected her not to write pages about the ache in her chest
Write a soliloquy dedicated to her tears
Expected her not to feel every gut wrenching moment of the pen hitting paper like your words hit her in the most vulnerable places of her mind.
You made a poet fall in love with you, and you expected her to be silent.
That is no fault of hers.

The moments I won't forget as long as I love
The talent of walking
The power of writing
The magic of speaking
The thunder in giving
Become dust with me
Teach yourself how to match my energy

Although all poets write well, only those becomes popular who learn to respect the work of others..

I failed to mention my frustration
when I told you "no" without hesitation,
but you pulled me in with determination,
and left my body full of devastation.
I laugh when you're brought up in conversation.
The truth is that I'm avoiding confrontation.