You weren't as great
As I painted you out to be
Maybe I'm just a good artist.

When you love someone who is not there
Your mind will learn to create
Draw images of how everything should be
Erase ones that depict how it actually is
Eventually you will forget what is real
And what is make believe
You will convince yourself
That you are not forgotten
And that even though you haven't heard from him in days
He still thinks of you
You will tell yourself
That you are still wanted
Regardless of the fact that you barely want anything to do with yourself
You will somehow believe that someone else does
He will not tell you though
You have to remind yourself that he is too busy
Too involved even for a hello
You will have to remember
That his life never intended on having you be part of it
And that you
Will probably never be a part of it
You will constantly be reminded of every time you were promised future
And your wanting for it will become unbearable
You will lay awake at night like you always do
This time tasting of more than just alcohol and regret
You will swallow your own tongue wondering why fate never seems to be on your side
Thinking maybe you were never meant to love in the first place
That meeting him was a mistake
You should have known better anyway
To fall for a guy
With a heart already occupied
You know all too well
That there is not enough room in one for two
And you are the tenant with the most vacant body
Stop trying to fill yourself with things that don't exist
You will need to recall
Every single time you have built yourself up
Your expectations piling above you
Never anticipating the crash
You always seem to be staring blank eyed
When everything around you crumbles into disaster
You learn to pick up the pieces
And glue them into something decent enough to look at
Your mind is still painting pictures
On a canvas that will most likely never be tangible
And you will be reminded of it when you're laying in bed
And your hands grab for someone who is not there
When you love someone who is not there
You will spend every second of the day
Searching for them in crowded rooms
When in reality
You know
They weren't there to begin with
And they probably
Never will be.

My mouth tastes of whiskey
When it should really taste of you.

I wish I could write the poem
To make you fall in love with me
But I am still trying
To compose the one
To get me to love
Myself.

I am not the girl you marry
I am the girl who 10 years from now
Will out of nowhere cross your mind
In the midst of contentedness
And have you wondering
What happened to her
I am not the girl you swear forever to
I am the girl who you'll think of
When you ***** your finger on the diamond ring
You bought for the one you plan on spending your life with
I am not the girl you have to try to forget
I am not memorable
In any particular way
But one day you will think of me
When you're sitting in a bar
And the short blonde girl next to you
Orders a glass
Of whisky.

Stick around and taste the honey on his cold, stone lips
and trace outlines of every skin cell around the thumbnails he uses to push lovers' pins into the ground.
Stick around and connect the dots on every leaf his messy hair has trapped
while I sip my coffee in the window,
watching the rain pour down.
In the meantime, race the raindrops in hopes for a beam of light, because the clouds never clear in his foggy, misleading, choir-like singing eyes.

It's that half smile of yours
the one that you make
when you're making me moan
and you're enjoying yourself
simply by making me enjoy you.
Your eyes
so concentrated
but so calm
and they look at me
like they're reading my mind
like everything I'm thinking
is written in my eyes.
Your hands move over me
like they're retracing a familiar place
like they've been there many times before
but still have so much more to explore.
You know me too well
and not at all.
You're comfortable
and amazed
all at the same time.
You love me the most
when we're all alone.


*s.mndi

but
     I
      want
               to
                 sin
                     on
                         every
                                  inch
                                        of
                                           your
                                                 body.

"Forever?"* is too long;
"Love me?" is too difficult;
"Stay?" is too needy;
"Hold me?" is too awkward...

Some how my questions are always wrong,
I just want to regain the love that I once felt;
But I'm left with broken bones and broken heart on the ground pleading,
And he dusts himself off, walking away telling me to *"keep going onward."