I feel
so numb.
I can't
cry.  And I'm a
crybaby.

I thought
it
would make
you go
away.
Instead I feel
it's
harder.
I feel cheap and *****.
**** the media.
They said it'd be
okay.

sometime
the need to write
scribbling words on paper
is as strong as the need to write
but the thought scares me
and so
i push the urge deep down
and hold my breath
but then
i cannot hold it any longer
and i let it out
letting the writing become me
an when im done
tears flow
not because the writing is beautiful
but because it is captivating
to let loose those things that i kept hidden
and because
i finally allowed myself
to breathe

am i selfish
for wanting this one thing?
i love you
its her i hate
i thought
you would do anything for me
even something like this
but i was wrong
and now
i feel bad
like i dont trust you
like im selfish
maybe theyre both true
i dont know anymore
i just wish id never asked
that way i could continue believing a lie
believing that youd give up anything for me
but i asked
and now im faced with reality
to be honest
i like my make believe world better
where you go
"sure babe, of course ill stop talking to her"
but thats a dream
like unicorns or fairys
i have to face reality
i have to hurt
to make you feel good
and i will
cuz id do anything for you
including this suffering
why?
cuz i know it makes you happy
and sometimes thats all
that matters

this isnt poetry
scribbling my thoughts on paper
in verse form
this isnt poetry
reaching deep into my soul
and pulling out my feelings
this is more like
journaling
or maybe even
therapy
because for some reason
this writing
this "poetry"
feels theraputic
it leaves you alive
so i guess
that means
that maybe, possibly
this just might
be poetry

I have black shoes.
I bet they look like
someone elses.
Isn't it weird,
how,
everyone is interconnected?
Isn't it insane
that maybe
I've already met you...