Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
May 2020
I miss the way it was always

despite

instead of

because.

I miss the way you tore me apart

and put me back together,

begging.

I miss the way you told me you loved me

after you screamed at me 

to just ******* die.

I miss the way you stroked my cheek

as I trembled in your arms

covered in bruises.

I miss the way your legs covered mine

because I was freezing

in 82 degree weather.

I miss the way you gave me your shirt

after, because you wanted me

to bathe in my own blood.

I miss the way you whispered my name

when you were drunk

and the way your lips felt on my neck

at midnight.

I miss the way you took every part of me

and crushed it into dust

and handed it back to me.

I miss your warmth 

and the way it felt so ******* good

on my body.

I miss the way your rough hands

fit perfectly in mine

and how when you thought I was asleep

you traced each crease in my hand.

I miss the way you demanded;

never asked.

I miss the way you yelled at me;

the way you whispered to me.

I miss the way you embarrassed me

in front of all of your friends

to get a **** reaction.

I miss the way you bit on my lips

until there was blood

and the way your mouth tasted like

coffee and cigarettes.

I miss the way you brushed my hair

out of the way as I sobbed

on your shoulder.

I miss the way you fell asleep on my lap

after a long day

and how you looked so young;

so peaceful.

I miss the way you touched me too harsh.

I miss the way you held me too gentle.

I miss the way you said goodbye

as you slammed my bedroom door

at three in the morning.

I miss the way I woke up in your bed

and you were already gone.

I miss the way you clenched your jaw

when you were frustrated.

I miss the way you sighed 

when you were annoyed.

I hate the way I miss you.

The way my body longs for your touch

and the way my lips hold your name.

The way I can't stop thinking of you

and the way it hurts so much

that I know you don't give me a second thought,

because.

But I also know

that if you ever did think of me

it would be

despite.
No one
Written by
No one  17/Between my words
(17/Between my words)   
142
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems