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I would say I miss you,
But that would be a lie right,
same as the lies of “you’re beautiful”
and “I love you” coming out of the lips of men I poured everything into but those were my mistake to mull over. My past for me to dissect. And the hurtful things I told myself, I could take, I was never as cruel to disguise judgement for caring. There was only so much hurt one person could carry,
only so many times I could be cut open by one person and stitched back up to hear them say they fixed me. How many times you’d say you’d fixed me, like I was broken? Like my flaws were factory defects but it was fine, you’d accept me cause you knew you could fix me?
The way you’d make it sound like were a Coldplay song. Like the lyrics and you holding my hand could put back together the pieces of a fragile girl torn apart by too many people. You, my savior, put me in cage, reminded me I could not be trusted to make my own choices, because this naive girl had fallen for too many sweet promises and had bad judgment when making my mistakes and you had to come in and fix me. Like I was a broken car and you a mechanic. Like you came in to sweep me off my feet with duct tape and hot glue. My hero. Came on his white horse to fix me and I’d fall at your feet  because after all, you’d put in all the work, right? You put effort into fixing something no one would love anyways. Something that wasn’t yours to fix in the first place and I’m supposed to be grateful? That you remind me who was there to pick up the pieces of every broken heart? That you remind me I’m not good enough, not smart enough to see when someone is lying to me, to see when I’m being played, but they my  mistakes to make. After all, it was me, crying, alone, throwing up in a McDonald’s bathroom, surviving, putting myself back together and you sweeping in to take all the credit for my work and I’m supposed to apologize for not loving you back the way you put effort into fixing me?
  Aug 28 Hannia Santisteban
zee
every night, there's this concept:
we're making scenarios in our head—
I, wishing I was dead
you, chasing someone you could never forget
and we'd tell them—they should've killed us instead
The problem is I’m drunk on Halloween weekend
the problem is every time I drink I wanna tell you I love you
the problem is I start to say it to all the wrong people.
I had two tequila sunrises and two blue long islands.
Blue long island tastes like your kisses that night a year ago and tequila tastes like regret when I see what I texted you
tomorrow morning. And it all boils down to the fact,
when I slept with the other guy, I finally understood why you
hurt me so much. It felt so good knowing the power was in my hand .Holding his heart in my fist, knowing he made love to me but I ****** him, just like you ****** me. But I still love you. In the drunken haze of my emotions, I still love you. And when you ask me, while I'm sober, if I still have feelings for you, I’ll ask,
“Does hate count as a feeling?”
  Sep 2018 Hannia Santisteban
Virtuous
Don't tell me I'm pretty
Tell me that I'm passionate
That I have drive
Tell me that I make you laugh
That I know how to make your day better
Don't tell me I seem nice
Tell me that I'm kind and compassionate
Tell me that I'm not afraid to dream and to dream big
Don't tell me I'm perfect
Tell me the you love me despite my flaws
That you want to spend the rest of your life with me
Don't tell me I'm beautiful
Tell me that you'll be faithful and forever true
I

You ask me to write about you
and I say I can’t.
I say I can’t write when I’m happy and
you haven’t broken my heart yet.
I lied.
The truth is, I haven’t learned how to make poetry
out of my flaws yet.

II

I’m afraid your love might suffocate me.
I still love someone I can never have and
now you love someone you can never have.

III

I know I have so much to work on.
I am a broken person who has been together
too many times. The water is leaking and the flowers are wilting.
You deserve someone who will love you as much as you love them.

IV

My mother told me to be with someone who loves me
more than I love them.
I can not do that.
I want can’t-live-with-out-you love. Even if it tears through me
with the strength of a category 5 hurricane.  Even if I can’t use my lungs for the months after.

V
I’m going to break his heart.
Because I can’t grow to love him.
I know everyday I am trash
but it feels good to be loved like this.
I am fragile and so is this love.

VI

I think it’s safer for both of us to leave the vase alone.
I guess it's selfish of me to wish you were unhappy,
because sometimes, I just wish you were by my side.
I ask myself how its possible to miss someone who was never
yours to begin with. I ask myself how my heart can hurt so much for someone who never wanted it in the first place and ******* it,
it makes feel so foolish to be sitting here, sipping on whiskey neat as the ocean passes me by. Because I will always be an ocean away from you, and you will be seated at that bar, giving your heart to another.

I will always be an ocean.
You a life boat trying to get to shore.
I, stormy waves bringing destruction to those who I love, and you
there to pick up the pieces.

There is no metaphor here. The truth of the matter is, I can sit here and pretend you were the only one at fault, when truthfully,
I did more damage than you. My fear of losing something I never truly had, destroyed a friendship on the cusp of creation and my spite destroyed every relationship with loved ones either of us could have had. I hate myself everyday.

As much as I want to be the good person who tells our friends they can still see you, I hate when they show you kindness and for what?
I ****** up too and realizing that was harder than losing you.
I hadn’t thought of you in years.

To be honest, I put you away in the box of memories of people I simply longer cared for, put the hurt into the deepest part of my soul and laughed the anger away while my best friend and I made plans for matching bathing suits and making lemonades for another summer barbecue we could fondly look back on. It was 3 am and the guy you told me I wasn’t allowed to be friends with, was laughing with me outside of a Taco Bell I knew you hated going to. We were talking about the letter your ex wrote him and I suddenly remember how much you hated your ex.
But *******, if you two weren’t meant for each other.
I mean, you are basically the same person, same narcissistic, view, same letters where you blamed others when you should have seen what was in front you.  It was through laughing, I realized, I don’t miss, I never missed you to begin with. The day you told me I was a bad friend, a bad person, a person who moved mountains for you and was crushed under the weight, I realized, you gave me the freedom was looking for. I was heart broken at first, but then I realized friendships aren’t made from how many years you have known someone, they are made from meeting someone and feeling like you knew them a lifetime. Friendships are unconditional love and respect, something I hadn’t felt the first time you insulted me. I guess what I’m trying to say is, enjoy my Instagram, it’s public and I know you still talk **** about me cause that's just the kind of bitter lemon you are, the kind people leave behind at the Farmer’s Market.
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