The half -dead beauty
The with holder of ashamed feelings
old feelings
The name doesn't live up to the inspiration it emits
It's the heaven in the hell
But of course I didn't appreciate it then,
When I had your interest.

We'd go there when I stayed over...
To the place where cowardly arguments go to instigate
To the place where we would go to be alone
To the place we'd go to practice our dances and songs, only to give up on them after a week.

You'd call me up and tell me to go with you to the field and of course I did.
Before I found out you didn't care
Before I knew about your master manipulator status
I would've done anything for you
Before I noticed your apathy
It was supportive
Before I knew I was just one of your friends
I was excited.

When I moved away, you forgot about me
But I remembered you, I remembered the field, I ******* remembered
And when I came back, you were gone yet only streets away...

Times weren't so good after that
You'd still call once a month, but I didn't answer because I refused to fall back into your well-maintained trap.

Today, I remembered the field
And I took my notebook, and my Lana Del Rey, and my combat boots and sauntered down the irrefutable road of unlucky childhood memories, and I lead myself there.

When I arrived, I noticed those huge black, plastic tubes were gone
Gone
Just like my feelings for you
And I sat, right under that same tree we sat about a year before, and I wrote this poem.
That's as real as it gets, the once unappreciated, ugly field that held our bitter-sweet relationship, inspired the once unappreciated, ugly girl.