Isn't this what you wanted?  
for me to write about you?
But I had no sad stories to tell.
You never made me want to bleed.
there was not one suppressed feeling,
Or depressed thoughts needing to be freed.
well,  I don't know how to deal with what I'm dealing with.
Shoulda never planted that seed in your head,
That you might be happier with her instead.
The most selfless thing iv'e ever done.
But, I've never felt more helpless, Hon.
I've never   f e l t   like this.
But, these are the cards I've been dealt with.
No, they're just the cards I played.
God, what was I thinking, If I had begged you, you might have stayed.
But, Once you've laid your cards down, you can't change your mind.
Like once you messaged her, there was no way to rewind.
I'd do it all different, If I could do it all again.
I want to tell you why you're significant, But don't know where to begin.
Maybe, that I'm writing this a little before
4 A.M.  
And I won't be getting sleep.
I'm not trying to condemn you, that's not your fault.
I could be counting sheep.
But I know laying in that bed will only make me weep.
I'm too regretful to be tired.
Wish I was forgetful.
But in my Heart, Body and Mind..You're still desired.
I'm sorry you thought I was pushing you.
But your words were crushing me.
I hope you two aren't rushing into things.
I still want you to be with me.
And it's much harder letting go, when I can still hear you saying "no".
But our love is a stretched rubber band.
I'm holding one end, and the other's in your hand.
If one lets go before the other, one of us will get hurt.
I can get hurt, that doesn't bother me.
But, we can both let go at the same time, and no one gets hurt, you see?
I'm sorry if you felt pushed.
I thought it would feel better than  trapped.

the point is, I'm just afraid..that our rubber band has snapped.

© copyrighted *Nicole Ann Osborn

I had a dream that you died last night.
I've told myself I was over you,
but I woke up crying.
You would always look at me so sadly
when I told you that I almost killed myself 8 times
and I never understood
why it shook you so much.

I always find myself
tracing my fingers over your spot on the bed,
hoping to feel your warmth once again.
You were a supernova,
and you always believed that burning out was
better than fading away.

We were no exception.

I dial your number sometimes,
hoping to hear your soft baritone voice
replace the harsh automated one.
"The number you have dialed is out of service."

I miss you,
and though the feeling is not mutual,
I still continue to write about it.
I love you,
and though the feeling is not mutual,
I still continue to be shaken by it.

I had a dream you died last night.
I told myself I was over you,
but I jumped after you in the dark.
"I love you."
*This is my way of burning out.

Almost every day I saw you
living two streets across
I could immediatelly reach you
- back then I didn't want -

I remember the times
you knocked on my door
creating obscure faces
- back then I didn't care -

You left behind your beloved
because you couldn't imagine
being just one moment without me
- back then I didn't need -

Now I want, but you do not
Now I care, but you do not
Now I need you, more than anything I ever needed,
but you say it was too late
*~ back then ~

I've been played a lot in my life
causing scars and scratches on my soul
that nobody and nothing seems able to heal.
People involved, they do not respect me
nor do they regret what they've done.
They just live their lifes without conscience
sharing smiling faces behind my back.

"They shall know, what they did to my life!",
I shout out in my dreams, while tears drop down my cheeks.
"Those *******, I will never forgive them.",
I tell myself, while staring at myself in the mirror.
"Just dieing is too merciful, they have to feel my pain",
I pledge to heaven for justice
- though no one seems to listen.

Months pass by and my anger fades,
but my memories still remain.
Still not found peace in my life,
as they drag me back over and over again,
I start to realize that there are things
you cannot overcome
even if you try.

Someone told me, this is the time
when you are able to start forgiving yourself
for letting others hurt you.
Someone told me, this is the time
when you have found your way
back out of a prison of hate
ready to move on.

I'm looking through my dusty window
out to a crowded place,
with people walking around like ants
gathering in a foreign space.

I'm looking up my empty room
which glares with bitter eyes,
the stories about me feeling home
spotted as simple lies.

I'm  looking at my flubbed life
and all the traces which remain,
not sure if everything I did enjoy
outweighs the taken pain.