Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sep 2019
i’m a liar because i’ll tell you how much i hate this, this living ordeal,
i’ll complain my way through an hour or two at a
coffee shop/bar/angry phone call from an apartment balcony
i’ll say this but if i hated it like i said i do. wouldn’t be writing.
wouldn’t be finding flowers to put in empty jars. wouldn’t say thank you, thank you, wouldn’t stand in warm water for an hour or more just to see what it’s like, today.
if i hated it i wouldn’t care about it so passionately, wouldn’t
white knuckle my way through wanting it to work so badly.
a true hate would be numbing out and accepting,
a true distaste for life would be an indifference to it.
i’ve always written that my first real love was with life
my first roller coaster romance, first earth shattering heartbreak, first all encompassing obsession
and i stand by that. always have.
Written by
Sydney  22/F/asheville, nc
(22/F/asheville, nc)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems