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April Watson Apr 2019
They’ve always told me the truth,
But I have mastered lying to myself
Like memorizing the insides of my
Eyes, I refuse to really see you.

They said you may miss me
But only for my toxicity.
They said I can’t always have what I want.
They said it’s time to move on.

But all I know is that I am sad.
No poetic metaphor to describe
the ache I feel.
I know I miss my best friend
And for some reason the wound won’t heal.

They told me the truth.
They said what I already knew.
That I need to let you go.
That I’m either ridiculously stubborn, a ******
Or probably both.

The truth is, I’ve learned to live without you,
And I know I don’t want to.
But I suppose it’s time I do.
April Watson Apr 2019
Pretty words are just words, it’s actions that truly hurt.
But then again I was never good at listening.
I want to say I miss you,
But it’s not quite that...
It’s more images if your karma, and plotting my crazy revenge,
But then again I was never very good at pretending.
I want to say I’m surprised...
But it’s not that either.
It’s more accepting that I was just too much for you and that you weren’t enough for me.
But, then again in the scheme of things, we weren’t really much of anything.
You see, pretty words are just pretty words
That you had the bad habit of repeating.
But, then again I was naive enough to believe,
But, since when do words mean much of anything to ME?
I know the truth to my words will dull the dagger.
Eventually, the stab will scab and scar over.
But you will realize that pretty words won’t dull the regret
Of knowing that you will be just another number
On the list of boys who can’t forget.
April Watson Feb 2019
You said you wouldn’t retrace your steps
but here I am breathless.
You told me I was special,
That you understood,
But sweet nothings mean nothing.
Forget what mamma said.
There is good in everyone,
But only for the right price.
Boy did I pay the price
Of puzzled parts of my soul
Little pieces I gave without knowing,
Like strands of my hair
If you find them give them back,
Give everything back,
Because the space you neglected to ask for
Has filled with fury and disgust
Trust tossed in with all the accounts you blocked.
One moment soul-sharing the next ghosting.
And that’s what’s best?
Grow up. Grow up. Grow up.
Thank you for showing me my worth and insignificance,
But mostly for reminding me who not to love.
April Watson Dec 2018
When I am weak, I look to Bronte to bring me home.
When I feel empty I look to Plath to make me whole,
Because no man, no degree, no job will fill me with the power and joy words bring.
No physical thing can bring me more to my knees
Than a blank journal providing endless possibilities printed on hand-pressed paper,
or a book written before language was frivolous,
whose pages speak truths I didn’t know existed,
Brimmed with riddles most people can’t decipher
But to me they are the stars that comfort my age old soul
They are the reaching hand that pulls me back
When I am dancing the edge and my tears tip me over
When the bough breaks and the cradle comes crashing down,
When the only person I want to see pulls the wool over my eyes
I will return to the only savior I have seen
The only thing that will never betray, break or bait me.
The only true love I have known.
Poetry
April Watson Nov 2016
He is the rain on my wings making me feel heavy.
I try to shake him and fly away
But I like the cool cage that surrounds me.
He weighs my heart down.
Slow, like the passing of the moon.
Temperamental as the tides
Busy as afternoon.
I ache for him like an addiction,
A feeling I never thought I needed.
He is the pump in my artificial heart,
He is the brace on my knee,
Always there to steady me.
He is the cast I wish I could take off,
But he and I both know how I break so easily.
How I bend and sway
Constantly tripping over my own feet
Sputtering words I meant to say poetically
Only to find he wasn’t even listening.
But eye rolling isn’t easy to see
half way across the country.
He couldn’t read the signs
Even if I painted them across my naked body.
Now I’m left to shake the drops off,
Missing him like the toy my child’s heart never forgot.
April Watson Nov 2016
I hate the way you wear your clothes
and the way you ignore my calls
I hate the way you kiss my neck
Until I can't seem to think at all

I hate when you call me "dude"
And how you're always right
I hate the way you're always in a mood
and when you forget to say goodnight

I hate the way you're always surprising me
and how you pick on my cat
I hate the way you leave me lonely
and how you don't let me steal your hat

I hate it... I hate the way you avoid my gaze
and when you make me cry
I hate the way you never say my name
and every time you bury things inside

I hate that you're not here
and that I've fallen for you
I hate that I don't hate you at all
and that loving you is all I want to do.
My take on Ten Things I Hate about You...
April Watson Feb 2016
I pour myself into any love that comes along.
Absorbing myself into them like a flower
Stretching up to meet the sun.
Good mornings soak up the dawn
of new beginnings and could be's
I stand in the daylight of so close and approaching almost
Lying in the twilight and finally opening my eyes,
Listening to the cricket’s song, sad and lonely but finding my way to where I belong.
Where do I belong?
Not in bottomless reflections praying for the buzz of your attention
No… no, not playing wars of who can pin whom
but sentences of simply me and you
I'll swallow the words of my youth
Place my hand on that book and speak nothing but the truth
Remember what I loved before I felt desire
Because our fire will always die
You know I can't convince my heart to lie.
Instead of grasping for your thoughts I'll reach for a pen
And remember who is left standing beside me and what this has always been.
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