“You get back what you put out”
“I love you”
i thought i knew
what it was like to be afraid
that was until
i heard the bone-chilling voice
of someone who hurt me.
i ran faster than ever,
i locked my door,
and i sat there, shaking violently.
this is what he's done to me.
that ******* of a boy.
based on true events.
the weight on my chest has been lifted.
i may not be fully happy today, or tomorrow,
but i know that at least
i told someone something
before i would face never being happy again.
I'm not crying because of him, I'm crying because I'm not good enough for him.
sitting in a public restroom
on a toilet, with your headphones
Listening as people come and go
Without the strength to get up
small, low buzz
go numb for a while
in the warm waters
close my eyes
lose the ability to feel
you dont have to be a writer to be a poet
you write poetry with the tears that glaze your eyes at three in the morning
you write poetry with the sound of your laugh and how your lips frame a smile
you write poetry with the eyelashes you bat at your lover
you write poetry with the words you whisper into their skin
you write poetry with the way your chest falls and rises with every breath you take
you dont have to put ink on paper
to be a poet
you just have to live