Crushed flowers are beautiful,
dried, pressed
not useful but certainly nice to look at
My sister affectionately called me a 'delicate little flower' one of the many times you made me break down, crushed from false accusation
until i eventually dried up
pressed myself until the pain no longer hurt.
I wondered why i had become such a fragile thing
shouldn't heartbreak build you up, a learning experience rather than reducing you to a few petals and a stem.
i feel more like a tree
green and great during the warm summer months
unaware of the freezing winter winds that will blow away all my protective leaves. barren. cold.
i hope someday i will become evergreen
beautiful, tall, luscious and full- pine or cedar or spruce
staying fragrant all year round

but for now i remain a daisy
nothing special
dried, pressed and crushed between these pages, within these words.

"If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be.*" - Wuthering Heights.

beauty, is in love's eyes,
i once read that if he still makes your heart
anchor itself to your abdomen,
after three months, it's love.

well, my metaphors are wasted on you,
my words are a fancy way of
expressing myself and they contain
too much of you.

you've got a temper,
enough to rumble under these streets,
and collapse what i've been building.

i get sick of building blocks,
love is child's play, and i just want
us to be adults.

i promised to love you, and i do in
my own odd ways,
you broke my heart, i broke yours.
i still want you to know,
a mosaic wouldn't be so beautiful,
without all the cracks.

your absence is
like the aftermath
of the storm

i'm left to wonder
whether i prefer
the desperate
insanity you blew
into my life

or the deadly
silence.

When
You
Format
Your
Poem
Like
This
It
Makes
It
A
Pain
In
The
***
To
Read
And
It
Takes
Away
From
Your
Genius.
It
Would
Be
Like
Making
The
Stat­ue
Of
David
Six
Hundred
Feet
Tall
Just
Because

Funny how I swore;
not to lose my mind,
if you ever leave;

Funnier how
I didn't know;
that it is the heart;
that'll go missing.

You say you hate his guts
Yet he's in all your poems
You talk of all his girlfriends
Yet you sit home alone
You count them off by name
Your own misery list
You can't ignore the facts
And we all get the gist
Why you think about this guy
Who has caused you so much pain
It's like setting yourself up
For an emotional drain
Loving someone who hurts you so bad
I have to wonder if maybe you're mad
It's just that you should know it is true
He may be the foe
But the enemy seems to be you

My eyes close every morning
And stay open each night
The dreams I've lost moaning
Upon which I try to fight
The misunderstandings growing
I did have a clue
You despite knowing
Turned my days to blue
It's quite upsetting to know the reasons
But didn't know you'd change like seasons
What else is there to take from me?
Take every of the things you see
I am just left with my breath and a heart beat
You crushed my soul and dressed up neat
Waving me a goodbye with a throw kiss
If only it mattered to him, how much I miss...

©sim