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Oct 2015 · 252
To whomever it may concern.
I don't really know how to start this.
It's been exactly a year since I could call you a friend. More than a year since I could call you my best friend. Does it matter to you how I'm doing? Do you care that I'm moving in April? Do you care that it broke my heart when I found out you were in town the day of my wedding and not even that could get you to even send me a message? I care. I care how you're doing. I care that you were in town on my wedding day and didn't even tell me. I care that you call Linda your best friend now. I care about Andrea and Karina and the twins. I care about what you're doing. I care about how things affect you. And I feel stupid because I know you don't care. I know you don't care to tell me when you're in town. I know you don't care to tell me about any life updates. And I know you don't give a **** about how I'm doing. You made that clear the last time we talked. It's been a year since we've had a decent conversation and we were best friends since the sixth grade. That feeling couldn't have just went away because you felt like it. You know, people tell me I should just move on from you and get some new friends. And maybe they're right. But you were a big part in my life. It's hard to just let that go.
I'm not sure if I should send it to her. Comment if I should.
Aug 2014 · 349
I love him.
I love you. And I know this is something that I should say in person, but I have bad memory and I would forget the look on your face when I told you. And I want to remember this feeling when I'm mad at you or sad. I want to be able to look back at this exact moment and know that I don't care what you did, I love you. I don't know if you love me back and I don't care because I love you regardless.  I figured out why I've been sleeping more ever since I met you. It's because I have to have some sort of break from constantly thinking about how perfect you are for me and how ****** of a person I am and how I'm probably going to disappoint you or I'm already disappointing you and how one day you're going to leave and I'm going to be alone again. But I love you. And I know I spend a lot of time with you, and I think you look really cute when you eat. I love the smile on your face when you're telling me a story about a thing you did with your friends. And I love the way your mouth tastes and I love the way you kiss me. I love the way you laugh and I love when you stare at me and tell me that you can't stop because you honestly think I'm beautiful. I love every second with you and I hate when you leave. I love you. I love you. I love you and I chose you and I'm so happy that you chose me. I love you and I will always love you because you make me a better person without realizing it. And I'm constantly rewriting this because no combination of 26 letters could ever possibly describe how much I love you. I love you.
Jun 2014 · 384
I'm not that person
If you know me, or even talked to me at all, you would know I like my music loud because I want to shut the world out. music to me is your lovers voice to you, soothing for me like a mother's voice to her sleepy baby.

You would know that I don't know what I want to be because I love everything and I love nothing.

You would know that I love my freedom because I'm selfish and all I can see is me.

You would know I'm not the type of person to be set to one person because the tune gets boring.

You would know I don't want the red roses on our first date, I don't want to coordinate our colors for prom, I don't want the butterflies in my stomach, I don't want to worry if what I'm doing will hurt your feelings.

You would know that I'm not the type of girl that guys fall in love with.

You would know not to make me a priority because you aren't mine.

You would know that I don't care what you're doing and I won't ever.

I'm not the type to change,
I'm the type to leave you behind and not regret it.

So don't expect anything from me
Because I'm not the type to care.
Draft
Apr 2014 · 209
Untitled
I am a poet
With no muse.
Baby, come back to me,
I need inspiration.
If you ask me about last year,
I will tell you about how many friends I had.
What we talked about,
What we were interested in.

If you ask me about last year,
I will tell you about the parties I went to.
The people I met.
The embarrassing moments.

If you ask me about last year,
I will tell you about me having great days
And laughter
And happiness.

I'll never tell you about me falling in love.
Or how bad it hurt to lose him.
Or the fights I had with my mom.
Or even the failing grades I had.

I went tell you about the failed attempt
To kick him out of my life.
Or my trip to the hospital
Because swallowed 30 painkillers.

These things that happened,
I'll never tell you about.
Under construction
Mar 2014 · 313
ranting love poem.
I live to write poetry.
Love is my muse.

I breathe to smell the romantic candles.
Love is my intoxication.

I have lips and a tongue only to collide with yours.
Love is your mouth.

I see only to reassure myself that you're real.
Love has made me blind.

My heart beats for you,
Lungs fill with the smoke from the ****,
Mouth fill of your saliva,
Fingers entangled in yours,
Love has finally awaken me.
You are happy and full of life.
You are addictive.
You aren't old at all.
Yes, your body might be,
But it's your mind and
Soul
That gets me to fall in love with you.
Under construction.
It's been exactly one week.
How did it feel?

I wasn't there to text you every second.
I wasn't there for you to talk to when you were frustrated.
I wasn't there to comfort you when you were sad.
I wasn't there when you smiled.
I wasn't there for anything.

That's how it's going to feel
in about half a month.

For another ******* year and a half.

It's not that hard of a decision to make.

Just move in with me.
Someone tried to tell me love isn't like roses.
Love is exactly like roses.

At first, they're beautiful,
The smell consumes you.

After a while they starts to die,
But they're still pretty.

In the end, the roses are dead,
The pretty smell is gone.

But you never throw them away
Because the memory of how beautiful
They once were
Still lingers with you.

So you hope
And pray that one day the roses will be as they once were,
But they won't.
10:52 P.M.
I can't keep writing about the emptiness I feel
Or how sad I am.

I can't keep listening to people tell me
To fill it with
God
Or
Drugs.

I can't keep staring at the mirror trying to figure out
Why you were so interested in my eyes that day.

I can't keep touching my ribs
Trying to give it the same feeling you did
When you gave me a hug in the hallway.

I can't keep thinking about you
Every night when I'm alone

I can't keep being in love with you.
Dec 2013 · 257
tragic
I always saw myself as imperfect.
There was never really a point in time when I didn't.
Even as a little girl I hated myself.

Perfect is what I aspire to be.

No matter the lengths I have
To go to be it.
Dec 2013 · 303
a certain type of regret
It wasn't the morning after.
It wasn't even the afternoon after.
Not a few days after.

It took me a week.
All week I was sure that it was right because
I was with someone I loved
And I was so sure loved me back.

It was exactly a week after
That you left me.

And at that second
That was when I felt it.
Dec 2013 · 364
teach your children.
Maybe children wouldn't commit suicide
If we just learned to be good humans.

Maybe we would have so many teen parents
If we just learned that *** is sacred.

Maybe kids wouldn't have cuts and scars
If we just learned that rude comments get us nowhere.

Maybe we would actually have a good economy
If kids were taught that
It's ok to learn
It won't make you a loser,
It'll make you successful.

We need to teach our kids better than our parents did.
Dec 2013 · 681
late at night like this.
Late at night like this,
I crave cigarettes.
I don't smoke,
Although, I think it might calm my nerves.

Late at night like this,
I want to walk around outside.
I want to see the lights,
Look at the sky
And not be afraid of the danger of strangers.
I want to embrace the beauty in them.

Late at night like this,
I crave a guy beside me.
To hold me
And kiss me
And be consumed by the warmth of his body.

Late at night like this,
I crave the freedom
That only friends and the open road
Have to offer.

I don't get these things
So instead, I lay here starting at the ceiling,
My heart heavy
My body numb
And my soul empty.
Dec 2013 · 345
10 years from now
If I wrote down 'him' on a piece of paper right now,
10 years from now will I know who I was talking about?

If I wrote down his name,
10 years from now will it still give me the same feeling it does now?

If I saved a picture of us,
10 years from now will my heart still drop the same way?

Will the touch of your skin,
The smell of your body,
The taste of your lips,
The sound of your voice,
Still feel like heaven from the lotion you can't stop wearing,
Smell like the middle of autumn from skating all day,
Taste like mint from the gum you are chewing earlier,
Or sound like we just woke up?

10 years from now,
Will I still be in love with you?

— The End —