Scratched up feelings
caused by my obsessiveness.
My unawareness of never
backing off
has broken the old lamp.
This room was a disaster to
begin with.
Everything fell out of place
due to what you said last night.
If my writing scared you,
my emotions were nothing you could handle,
and you were so overall uncomfortable,
thus not
my problem,
now only still a mess.
You are not one for me,
I'm leaving this old room in my head.
Old house,
with bills overflowing the counter.
I had hoped you would cry to understand I care.
Now I am only your worst nightmare since you close your eyes,
and I am in your head.
I am still writing now,
these poems are my babies.
I will always create and tend to my writings.
I just wanted you to see,
now you can't.
The room is dark
since you broke the lamp
that lit our friendship.
And I won't be one to fix it.
I will get a burn again.