i wish that i never found poetry in the way your lust dripped off of me.
the way you cared. ( you did right? ) the gently rough ways you had.
in a way, i wish that i never payed attention to all these details. i remember too much. i really don't think about you anymore, but when i do, i remember it all. i can't help it, it's like when i'm with you i analyze everything. the curve of your shoulder, the way you look at me, that cute laugh you have. oh, that smile. that smile was melting.
i just wanted to feel like i was at home, but you can't pretend when your home is a *****.
i wish you were around to tell me to stop smoking, to tell me about these terrible guys i find myself talking to. i wish i could talk to you. i could just talk. sometimes i wish i wouldn't have.
but you see here, you fuel the poetry hidden under my fingertips, the way i see cigarettes or uno or the color pink. the way i look at the moon is never the same, maybe that's why i don't anymore. my birthday marks one more year of the worst decision of my life, a constant reminder i have never been enough. whenever i see a car like yours i hope that it's you in it, i might act like i don't care around anyone else, but i can't deny that my heart picks up pace and i find myself looking. how pathetic really, the fact that you fuel my poetry and i can't even be a single thought in your head.
tell me honestly, was this just a weird, sick dream i had? or did you really not care.

I fell asleep with him drunk and stupidly in love. That's how most of my stories go. I was drunk, and I looked at him like he was God. I would fantasize and convince myself that I can finally be with someone that actually wants me. They leave and I accept the fact that no one would love someone like me.
My first lover told me I needed to stop letting people **** me so easily. So I waited and waited and still was unsure but I slept with them and they left. So I guess you were wrong, people just leave me.
I've been second-guessing people's feelings since they first state them. It annoys them but I'm never too sure until they get fed up and leave me hurting. I beg them to stay even if they will hurt me worse in the end, but I am hurting now so it won't be any different. It just doesn't seem to matter. I just need to feel. But once again I pick up a bottle and ***** the first person to talk to me because baby, I haven't been the same since you left. So call me crazy or a ***** but I want you to know I will never love someone more than I loved you. So please tell me again how I need to stop sleeping with people so easily because that's what I did with you and that got you to stay around for a while. A little bit longer than most. Please just don't leave me.
Everyone seems to leave me so I might just take this ***** and jump off the roof because baby I haven't been living since you left me. Baby, I haven't been breathing since you left.
I need to leave too. I think its better. I absolutely despise myself and everyone who has been around me. I hate this person I've become after you but baby, I was so young when you met me I don't know who I am to this day. Baby, I was so young.
Why did you have to introduce me to hurt like that so young?

I told you I didn't want to be alive anymore. Maybe not death, but the way I was living wasn’t for me anymore. You held me close while I was fighting back the tears and demons. That night, you got me to sneak out, you didn't want to be alone either.
That was only a few weeks ago, do you remember it? Can I have that lovely, midnight boy back? Did I ever even have him?
That boy is who I think about when I speak to God about love. Although whenever you talk about love, you really mean lust or your blessed ex-girlfriend who is stuck in a long term relationship (****** buddy, really wish I could help you out here but I’m selfish. Why can’t you like me like that?)
You asked me to hang out a few days ago, I agreed, of course. I miss you more than I can admit. I told you, no ***. You texted me back, “what’s the point in hanging out if you are going to be boring.'' But what’s the point in falling for a guy who’s an ******* half the time.
Honestly, my version of the “good” you is pretty *******. I mean I wonder if my friends truly believe that you could have said half the **** you seemed to have genuinely meant. I always, always, present you like the best guy you could ever be. Here I am, once again, not even attempting to badmouth you. You really know how to work my mind. I give you props for that. Midnight boy, the one I admire the most, where did you run off to this time? I miss you. Come back.
Somedays I fear you only lived in my mind. My dear, I’m going crazy. I can’t sort what is real and what isn’t. Did you really say all those sweet things to me, darling? Or did I picture you saying that?  I wish I could get out of my head. Usually, I rant to you, but ranting to you about yourself would just simply be obscured. So maybe you can read my poetry someday and realize every verse on every poem is soaked in you.
The real problem is you never truly wanted my love. Maybe it made you feel better, maybe you felt powerful with it. Knowing I would do anything to be with you. Really it should make you feel like a ****** person, leading me to believe you really wanted me. You made up things to ensure nothing came real between us. Parents, sports, lust for any other godforsaken female on this planet. Hell, once you told me you don’t know why I even stay around. That if you were me, you would have left a long time ago. That made me think. Would you really? You told me it was a sign we always ended back in the same position. Underneath the stars on your trampoline. The sun would be coming up and I would curse time for still moving in a time like this. A time where everything was so peaceful and lovely. We would distance ourselves for a month or so. But, we would return back there, spilling out our souls. Or at least I did. You told me I knew everything about you, yet you feel like such a stranger to me.
God, please send this boy some help. I tried, I really did. But as the saying goes, you can’t help someone who doesn’t want it. I want all my prayers about him to be granted if that isn’t much of a hassle. I’m wishing you could hear this all. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve cried over this boy, yet I only want the best for him.
I’ve cried and cried. But he doesn’t shed a tear, for anyone.

Another cold and lonely night,
Seated in the corner of this dark bar under a dim light,
Looking for the kind of love that lasts till first light,
Is it love under a drunken sight?
“From the guy at the bar"
Says the waitress who forgot a part of her dress,
She raises the glass and yet again lowers her bar,
She will have to fall in love with him tonight!

"I'll be right back,” She says  as she tries to get her *** up,  
Staggers away into the old filthy bathroom with a broken latch,
What used to be a mirror is nothing but broken glass,
Shattered in pieces like her broken heart,
The unpaid ***** she has now become,
Another tale of a her now too many one-night stands,
Grasping tightly at the illusion of this drunken love,
Each Night, A different Knight,

He doesn’t even own an old truck,
Or have enough money for the yellow cab,
Yet his working hand she holds
And together they stagger into the dark night,
Last night's knight’s cologne still lingers on,
Like the poison of hate that now runs through her veins,
He throws his jacket over the window pane,
She even lets him touch her now pale face!

The illusion of this temporary love doesn't last,
His wife is about to break through the phone,
This ugly slob passed out with one foot on the floor,
Under this morning light, he looks nothing like the shinning knight,
"Time to leave, thanks for the drink!"
He leans forward to give her one last kiss,
Just one double of cheap whiskey,
Not a penny left where he picked his keys,

She will be cold and lonely tonight,
She will be at that bar seated in the corner under the dim light,
Falling in love with you,
And hoping it lasts longer than first light!

your hands tighten around my neck and my breathing stops.
i think for a moment that this is love.

you have always punched, kicked, slapped me. i just don't care anymore.

this is love to you, but
this isn't love to me anymore.

i live on the idea that everyone i love
will be just like you.

you.
such an absurd thing you are.
are you still out there thinking about me?
i wonder what it would be like
if you loved me as i loved you.
could we work past the hurt
the betrayal  
the pain we caused?

do you think of me today?
i need to know.
i pass in the halls and can't help but want you to stop.
to wait for me.
to pick me up and take me far away from
where we could be each other.

i need to know if you ever loved me.
actually, love is a strong word.
deeply admire.
oh, how i admired you.
if anything,
you were the first person i “loved”.
if i stay on this trail of hate,
you will be the only one i “love”.
  
i gave you every part of me.
even though you couldn’t do the same.

do you remember when i stayed up
listening to you rant about your day?
we would just talk.
i think we annoyed my sister whose bed was next time mine.
but i never cared.
it was just me and you.
i swear i fell even harder when i heard you laugh
or even when you cried.

you never cried in front of me but i knew you did.
you were always hurting.
i could never heal your hurt,
or even distract you.
was it a problem with me?
was i just not the right one for you?

i think it was a good thing we didn't work.
but right now, i think it still stings.
very slightly, but the hurt is there.
maybe someday i will find something to distract me completely from this sting.

maybe we could meet up again.
and we could love again.
the feelings might not be as strong,
but maybe this time,
we can love a new way.
would you be okay with that?
could we finally be together in some altered universe?

the least you could do is to stop
looking
so ******* cute.