You probably never deserved to be
loved the way I loved you.
In the most real way anyone could.
I never wanted anything from you except
you.
I don’t know why I keep
pouring myself into men who don’t care.
Hopefully you’ll be the last one.

I sat in my car
by the small lake and
observed how the
shadows of trees
stretched out along
the grass.
It’s been months
since the sun has
shined like this,
a preview of spring.
I have impatiently waited
for warmer days,
and the sparkle of
the moving current.
Even on a low day,
watching a goose spin
itself around in the water
to get clean, helps.

The sound of a passing train in the distance is so loud.
Even though he lived closer to the tracks, I used to never notice it when I was with him.

The ghosted messages
still sit there cold and unforgiving.
I wish my brain could let me forget
let me enjoy what I’m doing now,
who cares what you’re doing now.

When you live alone
you realize there is
no one else there to
**** the spider.
You have to do it.

I try to enjoy every moment I can,
even the ones that get under my skin
because it’s for the last time.
Hauling our ***** clothes to the laundromat,
and struggling to find an open washer.
Getting a beer at Wings while we wait.
Going to our favorite pizza place for the 200th time;
hold the mushroom add bacon.
And then stopping at UDF for a scoop of
cotton candy ice cream.
The fight to get him to wake up to his alarm the first time it goes off, even though it usually takes an hour.
Every hug I hold for a second longer.
I don’t let go of his hand in the car.
I have cried to him and wished I could go back in time, I’d do everything differently so we would’ve lasted forever... somehow.
He said it wasn’t me, I was his favorite girl but everything comes to an end eventually.
And now is that time.

Everything is not okay.
I’ve already lost track of
what day it is,
I have no idea where
I should be or what I should be
doing.
It’s October, so my yearly
downfall into seasonal depression
is right on schedule.
I’m not even in my own bed.
Or my house because I don’t really
have one anymore.
My heart is broken,
my bank account busted,
no good fortune on the horizon.
Just another sun rise into
a day of disappointments.

I can’t go back and read anything
I’ve written in the last year.
I don’t know if I ever will.
It makes my stomach hurt.
So I’ve kind of quit writing;
for now.
I don’t need to remember this
part of my life.

It is so weird how the heart and mind
have to heal after they’re wounded, just like if you broke a bone.
It takes time, sometimes a long time.
You might start to hate yourself or take all the blame and feel like it’ll never get better.
You have to work every day to get stronger
and slowly you become more able to live a normal life.
The pain subsides after awhile and sometimes you even forget you were ever hurt.
It’s all a scientific process that I’m not smart enough to explain.
Just be patient, and brave.

I’m laying in his bed
and he’s not home yet.
I am taking deep
breaths and repeating
the same thing I always do
when I feel like this.
Everything is fine,
everyone is safe,
You’re okay.
I’ve been pulling my
hair out nonstop
the last few weeks.
I need to shave my head.

I had a dream about you.
I know you were there although
I can’t remember your face.
But I felt it in my heart when I woke up alone.

It’s so dumb when
a small thing turns
into what cracked the egg.
The egg is my brain.
Sometimes it’s a rude comment,
or an extra chore or payment
that sends me boiling over.

I wish I could ask
someone to grab cat litter
or salt for the water softener
just so I don’t have to.
Someone to make dinner
while I nap,
just once.
But the person who
has to do that for me,
is me.

Sometimes I think it’s gone.
That maybe it got up in the mountains
of Virginia,
or left on the bench at a roadside diner.
I feel so weightless without it,
like I can do anything, be anything,
freedom.

But it’s never really gone.
It always hitches a ride or grabs onto
the bottom of my pants dragging in the dirt.

That little ****** named Heartbreak.
He still knows how to weigh me down.

Sometimes I have trouble spending time
with myself.
I make bad decisions, maybe I’ll drink too much, or waste money on stupid things.
I don’t think I’m very pretty to look at
and my gut hasn’t stopped growing since
sometime last year.
I can be funny, I guess.
But I’m too sarcastic and pessimistic.
I’m not original, I can’t draw, paint, write or dance.
I don’t even have good style.
I know everyone says you have to love yourself before you can love anyone else...
But I think some ******* said that once and since it kinda sounds like Dr. Seuss we all just took it as bible.
Because I have definitely loved someone,
and treated them better than I treat myself.
I don’t know, I wish I could be someone else.

I bet you’ve found the girl of your dreams.
*******, a perfect *** that she’s worked for in the gym for 10 years.
Long blonde hair and clear skin.
Tall and tan because she grew up in Florida.
I bet she’s rich from daddy’s money,
and barely calls you because she’s “independent.”
I bet you make sure she finishes every time you make love and are gentle and kind in a way you never were with me.
I bet you’re already planning on marrying that girl some day.

I hope she breaks your heart.
I hope she cheats on you with everyone you know.
Your best friend, someone you trust.
I hope you can’t sleep or eat and cry for months.
I hope she ruins your self esteem and makes you swear off ever trying again.
Like you did to me.

I know you apologized and swore you’d never do anything so horrible again, and I wish I could say I’m happy for the girl who will get everything I ever wanted..
but it doesn’t help knowing I’m the only one you ever felt deserved to be treated like garbage.

I hope she ***** your dad.

Years of work mending
all for nothing
because I am bleeding again.

I’m embarrassed of my life.
I’m getting fat because I spend every dollar I make on food,
I work less than 4 hours a day cleaning toilets.
I get drunk and cry about the same **** I’ve been crying about for a year,
and can’t remember what I said the next day.
The other night I threw up into a grocery bag
multiple times.
My “friends” pity me because I can’t stop ******* up.
My car is a 20 year old fish bowl that was a huge waste of money,
and I had to move home at 24 because I couldn’t be responsible after getting my heart broken.
I’m still irresponsible.

I want to throw out this version of me and get the upgrade but I make myself look stupid every time I leave the safety of my bed.
Can’t someone just reprogram me instead?

I want to trust him but my brain is telling me not to.
I’m scared because he could easily lie to me
or hide stuff from me and I’d never know.
He’s thousands of miles away and sometimes
He’s sweet and sometimes I don’t know what’s going on.
It’s making me feel crazy.
Suddenly I’m not even sure I’m his girlfriend.
He said the word best friend the other night but then he’s also said we’re together.
I don’t know. I need to ask him but he’s at work for the next 2 hours.
I Can’t wait that long.
And what if he says no. What does that mean. That suddenly he’s changed his mind because of someone else?
****

I keep ending up
in this bed alone.
Squishing this stupid
marble he tossed at me
earlier,
and said
Keep it safe.
Its been rolling between
my fingers ever since.
But I can’t stop wondering
why,
why he’d give me this
with no intention behind it.
No intention.
The marble.
Or his word to me.

I’m supposed to be going through the drag of orientation.
Sat in front of a computer, watch these videos.
Come get me when you’re done.
But I can’t stop thinking about him.
Time has been my worst enemy,
moving so fast taking me farther and farther away from those days we were together.
Too far away to touch anymore.
But the memories are still there.
Dimmer, foggy and like a lemon.

I went to the bar by myself.
My favorite one that’s
right by the railroad tracks
and has a big red neon
light that shines the name
of the joint.
I had a shot of fireball
and a miller light
and wasted my money
on touch tunes.
No man,
just ones in my inbox.
About to finish this beer and
head home.
Just drunk enough,
to enjoy music and a
cigarette.
I love Wednesdays.

This used to be a safe place to go to talk about your feelings while practicing writing. Now it’s just another form of Twitter where everyone thinks it’s okay to be hateful and nasty in the comments and have no respect for the person that is going to read them.

Like the account - charlie’s favorite
They made fun of my name, called me blind and stupid and then blocked me for asking them to not be nasty in the comments of someone’s poem. Don’t support that person

I can see the dark clouds disappearing,
it feels like the first sign of spring.
But I haven’t come back home yet.
I’m so close.
I’ve come so far from crying so hard I thought someone might call the cops;
in a house that belonged to the person I hated.
I did anything to try to forget or fill that empty hole in my heart.
I couldn’t eat or sleep so I replaced it with thin white lines and alcohol and that didn’t help either.
My friends had no clue what to say to me but I’m grateful that they tried.
I disassociated while my brain replayed my nightmares, so I lost my job because they saw I wasn’t there.
I texted my mom that I needed to move back in because I hit the bottom and lost everything.

But I’ve been climbing and fighting my way back up. I really thought that pain would never go away but I can finally see the sun peaking through the cracks.
I don’t want to say, “it gets better” but it does.
It took me 7 months to get here, and I still have a long way to go.

What goes around
comes around.
That’s what I have to
remind myself.
So be good,
and good will come.

I went to the store today.
The frozen food aisle was a ghost town.
I saw a tumble **** roll by.
Everybody had full carts of milk, eggs, bread.
Doritos and Mountain Dew.
The essentials ya know?
I just went through the aisles and got food
that would give me comfort.
I can live off of sandwiches and sadness just fine.