I just wanted to let you know that I’m done.
If I ever loved you at all… I don’t love you anymore.
True, lately I’ve been lonely, and if I told you that I missed you, I don’t miss you
I promise I’m just bored.
You were already here, and I needed a muse. I was trying to talk to you
But you wouldn’t listen.
I was getting tired of the “Miss Yous”; they were starting to feel misused.
So I cut you loose.
Cause I was tired of the lies as well. No games, we both grown.
And we both know **** well that nothing resembles the truth more than what is true
So what does that make you?
Maybe I’m a fool because I didn’t listen when they tried to put me up on game about you.
Let’s play a game, and for once let’s not make it about you.
I dare you to tell me the truth…and while I wait, I’ll tell you mine.
1. What’s true is that I’ve been lying to myself while making up excuses for you.
2. I ignored every lip stick stain, 2am phone call, and deceit-scented fragrance...thinking that made me a rider.
3. I even decided to dedicate my poems to someone new, but two wrongs don’t make a writer.
Maybe I’m a fool, because I always end up giving the wrong people the right pieces of me...
Remember when I used to tell you that I was fat? And you’d reply, “No, you’re beautiful”
I wondered why I couldn’t be both.
Remember when you told me that you loved me, so you’d never cheat? I wonder why I didn’t think you could do both.
You were looking for real, while real was looking at you.
You were QUICK to give up something real when something close started looking at you too.
You reached into my soul and removed my vital organs.
Broke my ribcage to make a home for your heart…now tell me
WHAT THE HELL am I supposed to do with a broken ribcage and an empty space?
I can’t even blame you…by always putting you first,
I’ve taught you that I always come second.
I made your love home, my favorite place
& on the weekends you made HER home, your favorite place.
You were my poetry, my safe place.
My lock my heart up and don’t tell anybody where you keep the safe…place.
It’s funny though, because it seems that we had galaxies between us
And yet you still needed space.
Shout out to the pain that gave me understanding
Shout out to the pain that helped me realize what space meant.
I remember pretending to be every girl that you’ve ever been with,
Like you were a ******, and I was your first.
Like you were an atheist and I was the first church you ever stepped into
I loved you. Bruh, I talked to God about you.
I pretended to be the only girl you ever encountered so technically I was the only one, but I was never the only once because I was never the only choice that you had to choose from.
I remember you telling me that I would never have to compete with another soul.
I wonder why I believed you…hmm
I guess I was scoping the competition with my eyes closed.
Not closed too tight to notice you trying to pull wool over them though.
In my mom’s hopeless attempts to console me, she told me that time heals all wounds…as if she forgot that all wounds still hurt for some time.
But its fine... my palms are too small to hold grudges.
I’m done. It’s crazy though, I swear I could write journals worth of poetry to you
But when it comes time to speak, my voice gets caught in my throat every single time.
Not this time.
Baby our love was like a poetic metaphor.
It was either me or her…I guess you chose who you were riding for.