You pretend not to know me
In front of him
Like you didn’t come over at 2am
And we didn’t spend hours talking and cuddling
And you didn’t plant a row of kisses on my shoulder
Or scratched my back until I fell asleep
Is that all I am to you?
A secret you’ll carry with you to your grave?
I am more than the things you brush under your bed to hide from your mother at 2am
In a world full of artists and writers,
It’s hard not to compare
“Are the poems I write good?
What makes them different from anyone else’s out there?”
My poems don’t rhyme
At least, not all the time
And my words may not be exquisite
Hell, they’re hardly even elegant
No, my poems may not be the best
But, they do come from the heart
So who’s to say
that isn’t art?
“Do you miss it?”
“Whatever you thought of when I asked?”
Well? Do you?
Drink till you’re drunk sometimes
Laugh maniacally with your friends
After butchering karaoke night at the bar
Cry till your heart doesn’t hurt
Crawl into bed
And ruin your white pillows with mascara
Write till your hands ache
Spill words and words
Everything you feel in your heart
And love so much
That it fills your entire being
With what feels like God himself
Life isn’t meant for limits
Don’t put one on yours
What a finicky word, love is
Like two sides of a coin
Maybe that’s the curse the universe bestowed on us
After all, how could it give us something so magical
Something that could make us fly
And feel like we’re on top of the world
Without it being able to tear the mountain out from under our feet
And bury us six feet into the ground?
Something I think about quite often
Is the girl who loves him
More than she loves herself