this sinking feeling in my stomach
is all too familiar
maybe it was a bit forward of me
to think that your words meant something
to think that i meant something
but it isn't your fault
you're impulsive
and you get what you want
and i wish i could too
but i really really wanted
to be something that you want

but what you want is to feel different
to erase the negative feelings
and replace them with artificial positives
and i understand
because i'm not above it

although i'm still having dreams about him,
you're what i thought about
when i first woke up

i hope that's okay

i remember
the sun beaming down on my back
as the wind blew through the tall green grass
the hot air creating a sweat on my brow
running through the field to the large tree
in the middle
climbing up high to view the neighborhood
as few others had seen it this way

i remember
riding down the large hills
on my bright green bike
feeling the wind rush through my auburn hair
feeling the breeze rush through my chest
faster and faster i would try to go
to get the feeling of flying
and oh, how i wanted to stay

i remember
coming inside from playing
to hear yelling and screaming
from deep within the house
and a deep, sharp noise, a leg through a closed door
"is this what you want?
did you want them to hear?"
i hoped for it to stop

i remember
my father coming over for easter dinner
and getting a little too much alcohol
and yelling at my mother
for turning us against him
"what do they know?
they're just kids!
stupid, young kids"

i remember
in the corner of the playground
where he used to play with me
a game i didn't understand
and wouldn't for a while
until he got caught
by an older student
and expelled

i remember
meeting him again at another playground
where you asked me
with a smirk on your face
"do you remember our game?"
i lied straight to your face
and told you i did not
but i really can't forget

i remember
the first time i felt ugly
looking in my full length mirror
in my purple painted room
i was seven
and just about to have another growth spurt
and had packed on weight for the transition
and my mother told me it will be okay

i remember
the yellow roses
planted outside the living room window
that bloomed once in the spring
then faced a terrible storm
and were never quite the same again
but they always tried to grow

nothing compares to the empty feeling
that you've left inside of me.
you tell me lovely words,
and then leave me alone
to my own thoughts and creations
i never wanted to love you
but here we are
here i am
alone and confused
and i can't tell you
oh no, no way
you'll judge me
hate me
the way you do to my opinions
my dreams, wishes
my thoughts
you're no good
not for me
not at all
a bad friend
a worse lover
but wow, if i could change you
now wouldn't that be something
make you kinder, more open,
more willing to talk to me,
like you once did
more understanding, more caring
less cold and distant
less painful and agonizing
more appreciative and mannerly
and maybe if you made me cry
a little bit less
with your take take take
and only enough give
to make me crave more and more

wow, if i could change you
now wouldn't that be something

there is a very
large disconnect
between what you think of me
and what i see in the mirror
(and it feels really nice
but i wish i was the only one)

noun*
the ability to produce a desired or intended result.

i
want you
to want me
but i don't know
if i have that ability
to make you want me
as much as I want you to
but oh, goodness, do i want
you, and I really want you to see
how very pretty you can make me feel

the way you kissed me
is like a double-edged sword

i loved it
but you'll never
do it again

i'm accepting it