i think i have finally understood the concept of moving on for people like me, for people who have a heart like me and also for the ones who love the same way i do.

you see, when you end up loving someone the same way i love - you can never really get over them even when it's over.
when you've integrated someone into your life, making them a part of your life, it stays. they don't just leave your life like that, even when they're already gone.
when you've made someone one of your main sources of happiness and when they stop becoming so - sure, they're just one of your main sources of happiness but just like wifi, full signal is always better than half even though it still works, right?

moving on is never being able to completely look at someone and feel nothing even when you've shared a past together. it's about accepting the fact that you'll never ever have a chance with them ever again, no matter how much you want them. it's crying at night because you can't turn back time to fix things or to feel how much they once loved you. it's seeing them happy with someone new and softly whispering, "if you're happy, then i'm happy too." it's constantly torturing yourself with wishful thinking and hopelessly dreaming about another chance, for them to reconsider their choices of leaving you but feeling suffocated because you know, hope isn't even an option anymore - it's just pointless wishing. it's about understanding that you will never really understand why things didn't work out. it's about putting their well-being and happiness before yours because you know that if yours were prioritized, or even cared about, they wouldn't be as happy as they are today without you. it's about looking forward to go to bed because you can finally see them in your dreams but not being able to fall asleep because the thoughts of the past are flooding your mind like a tsunami.

i could go on for days, but i think you get it.
i think you understand that moving on does not mean you don't love them or care about them anymore, but it means you love and care about them enough to let them be because if leaving you is what makes them happy, so be it. even though it hurts.

so even if i have moved on from you,
(here i go again with the wishful thinking but)
if one day you decide to come back,
please know that i will always welcome you back with open arms and i will whisper, "i have been waiting for you."

I have written you one-hundred and twenty-six love poems
On the backs of forgotten receipts and used napkins
Among scribbled equations on calculus exams
And yet still you do not care for me enough
To even write my name
On the front of a tiny strip of paper
Let alone the palm of your hand
Or where I would like it to be
At the center of your heart

lord
i
fall to my knees
with
faith
that
i
believe
in
yet
every star
that
i
see
some red
some blue and some green
yes lord
my
faith heals me again

please understand my stretch marks
they marked the mistakes
of people who left me
at least they stayed

please understand my scars
they are meant for people to know
that i am stronger than anyone
who had tried to destroy me

please understand my pimples
they’re not always there
and i want you to be aware of it
that they’re a part of me

please understand my flaws
i am not perfect
and i will never be
but i will remain beautiful

To the two boys who think I owe them something.
My heart doesn't belong to either of you,
and your spindly fingers clenching it
don't look enough like ribbon
to fool me into thinking that
my love is a gift to you.
To the two of you,
so willing to give me
your monthly allowances of text messages
yet not your loyalty.
For thinking that an "honest" apology
fixes me having to question why
just me was never good enough
for either of you.
You were both greedy,
you always wanted more.
Now run free and fill your stomach with all the flavours that will burn your taste buds and scorch your tongue.
To both of you for being willing enough to open my box with a key that I never gave you,
rifle through my thoughts and feelings,
and not even open your ears to them,
leaving the lid off
and the contents strewn across your floor.
For offering to help me pick them back up again,
but only because my "small, little arms" are not strong enough to carry my own weight that I've carried for
fifteen years on my own.
Here's to both of you for putting me down about being small.
That is NOT my fault.
I have a mighty big cathedral for a heart and a generous brain
and that's all within 5"2.
It doesn't make you any bigger than me
(metaphorically).
Your few feet advantage doesn't give you
the power above me,
even if you can see the roots of my hair in more detail
than you would ever care to observe
the fault lines of my cracked smile.
Boys are being taught that
to love me
is to fix me,
that I am some kind of messy enigma,
a project, a goal.
I'm just a girl with a family, a girl with a head, with a spiders web of veins and a lifetime of lessons that I'm opening my arms and my heart to.
You mistake yourself for a lesson,
when I'm fully qualified to teach myself.

You diagnose yourselves
as "depressed".
Mental illness is not an accessory,
nor a quirk to make you seem more vulnerable to me.
Don't brandish it in the air,
it is not a weapon against me.
It doesn't make you adorable,
or some kind of cuddly bear boy.
Everything that's
"killing you"
is just as toxic to me.
You set my skin into blue flames
because I won't give myself to you.
No,
no,
no.
I'm tangled in my rejection,
and it thickens.
I can't be with you out of pity.
My guilt, raging deep within my bowels,
marching violently through my organs,
exploding into a supernova of
thinking that love and guilt are almost the same thing.
"I'll do anything",
I don't want anything from you.
"I'll write you a poem because I know how much you love that."
I also love being respected but neither of you ever gave me that.
My craft is not a tool of trickery,
and your words not a trance.
"I'm not like him".
But you still act like my skin is a carpet to your home,
and you walk across it with muddy boots.

You think you're a blanket to keep me warm,
but you ended up suffocating me.
To the boys who think I owe you them something,
go home.