and I promised myself that I'd stop writing about you,
because you no longer deserved it.
---
but here I am, a month later, and I still compare
every new person I meet to you;
I still find pieces of you in song lyrics;
I still check my messages hoping that maybe you've changed
(either your mind, or your personality, or both).
here I am, a month later, still writing about you, love.
and I wish I wasn't.
I wish your name didn't make my cheeks turn slightly red;
I wish seeing pictures of you smiling with other people,
better people, didn't make my heart sink a little;
I wish I could convince myself that you're not worth it anymore.
---
we'll see how I'm doing next month.

The words that go unspoken actually make the most noise.

I like the way your name sounds,
Rolling off my tongue,
But mostly I'm in love,
With the way you say **mine

I have lied my way
Through life
And spilled my truth
Upon these pages.
A persona presented
Face to face
Is lost within the ink
Of the pen.
Created by insecurities,
Derived from expectations
Unjudged by blank sheets.
Only those who read me
Truly know me.