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Gibson Jun 2017
I can’t write this poem
I can’t write this poem because the last time I opened up to someone artistically they told me it was pretty dark and I should keep it to myself.

I can’t write this poem
I can’t write this poem because I was raised in a culture that was anti love and pro meaningless ***. I saw endless commercials about movies that glamorize a lifestyle in which your body is fulfilled but your heart is ignored and at that impressionable age I learned my heart came second but my allure came first and the less I cared that happier I would be and I carried that belief around with me the way I used to carry around a Bible as a child.

I can’t write this poem
I can’t write this poem because of the time that I opened my father’s phone to reveal a family secret I would hold to this day against my own moral instincts unraveling miles of insecurities wondering if I’m not a good enough daughter or if he stopped loving my mother or if true love was never real and although I had been taught marriage was my purpose, it was what I believed would make me happy, maybe rings aren’t enough to stay in love and maybe people’s feelings change and maybe no one actually has a “one true love” and that this purpose I had been taught was really an endless wild goose chase that only lead to broken families and lost souls.

I can’t write this poem
I can’t write this poem because sometimes I still wonder why I fell into an abyss of toxicity at such a young age. And when I say wonder I don’t mean a trivial ponder, I mean I contemplate every possible reason why the person who I once believed held the universe in her eyes would lie to my face, why she never kissed me in public and our love was always a secret, why she valued girls with blue hair but my blonde hair was not good enough, why I had to hide bruises from my family when I was still in high school or more importantly, why at the time, I thought I deserved them. These thoughts, this lingering paranoia that I am undeserving of healthy love, they muddy my interpretations of real life and distort reality and effect my relationships. My doctor would call these intrusive thoughts, my best friend would tell me they’re symptoms of PTSD, but I have come to realize that I’ve been burned and I am damaged and I hope to god I can recover.

But you,
Oh god, you
You can write this poem. You can be my safety net while I’m free falling in love. You can be the one to listen to my mental tilt-a-whirls, you can be the one that introduces my body and my heart, you can be the one that calms the storms in my mind when I’m questioning the love I’m deserving of. You are the one who makes sure I fall asleep in my bed after drunk nights, you are the one that still sees my value after acknowledging my flaws.
You can write this poem.
Gibson Dec 2014
I am the kiss shaped scar on the back of your hand that will define you forever.
When you run your fingers through a lovers hair the memory of us in your bed will invade your mind.
You will be unable to go to our places without longing for my tiny hand to hold and my soft lips to kiss.
You're forever stained by the love I poured on you from head to toe when everyone else left.
And you will always come back because every time you step outside the crisp air will remind you of me.
You will obsess. Your mind will not stop. It will never stop.
You will go mad. The insanity will increase. Guilt and remorse dancing through your mind. No matter how hard the hit, now matter how much blood pours, the pain will never distract you from me.
The perpetuating insomnia that comes along with love will drive you to the point of pouring lye on the back of your hand that I kissed.
And I will be there forever.
I've read Fight Club three times.
Gibson Jul 2014
My breath feels empty
My throat is constantly chocking the screams I long to release
The idea of something so permanent makes me feel stuck in the present
This is not a distant vacation,
This is an emptiness in my heart that will last for the rest of my life
I am constantly apologizing to an unmonitored Facebook account
Forever is a long time to deal with this emptiness
I love you, B
Gibson May 2014
I love the freckles on your shoulders
And I love how your brown eyes look focused all the time
I love how you care for women, children, and animals
And I love that you stand for whats right

I love that you can still find a reason to smile
And I love that you can sit in the sun and be perfectly content
I love that you take lavender baths
And I love how passion and dedication fuels your body

I love that you're happy to be alone
And I love that you want a child
I love how you day dream about growing old alone in peace
And I love your motherly nature
No one else will do it, so why don't I?
Gibson May 2014
You didn't dance for me

I danced alone

And I remain alone

Because it is better to live by yourself

Than with someone who held you back

You didn't wait for me

And I danced alone

Now you're with someone

Because it's better to live with someone you don't love

Than to live with someone that  isn't there at all
Gibson May 2014
I broke a glass over your boxers
The pieces are so small
I cannot find them all
I hope they cut your *****
I keep finding them in my leg. Glass must see true fault.
Gibson Mar 2014
The ocean will never understand my yearnings for love

And I will never understand why he likes to swallow boats

But we can still pretend that I sing as beautifully as a siren

Like we pretend that all sailors go to Heaven

Forever I will crave your affection

Like I crave milk when I eat a peanut butter sandwich

And no one will know the emptiness I will become

When my tiny angel finally flies home

I hope that Paris is nice this time of year

And I hope that Asia is even better

Kiss the person you love

Before someone else does first

Is there anything that can make me feel colors

Besides Pink Floyd and floating on waves

But really, what more is life than eating meals

And feeling things that don't make much sense at all
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