arms made for carrying the words that spill out of my mouth not for holding you together hands used to create art and write things that hurt too much to say not to touch you chest made to feed the children I have yet to bear not for your pleasure legs to carry me throughout life not for you to stare at as I walk by my body is mine it is for me and will only ever be
ive been trying to get back into writing and this is ****** but at least its something
this heartbreak isn't textbook. it isn't like those movies, or those books, or anyone's anything. bracing yourself for impact is an impossibility. nothing - and listen to me when I say nothing - can prepare you for this pain. you begin to miss everything. everything you thought you'd never miss: his obnoxious little brother and his father playing guitar too loud and the way his mother said the word "vegetables" and never having enough room to sleep. now I don't think I could get close enough to you if I tired. the closest I am getting to you these days is when your sign is next to my sign in a horoscope. and I know you don't believe in those but this is the only hope I have left. the barnum statements of romance hold no weight until I am told that we are perfect for each other. do you believe in alternate universes? maybe in another world we are happy together, eating popsicles and sharing sticky kisses. the truth is this poem is wearing on me. I'm tired of discussing the possibility of there being another you and another me together happy on a somewhere else far away. I am tired of writing the I miss you poem. I am tired.
note: I will continue to write the I miss you poem until my fingers break.
The reason we hide our wounds and scars is not because we are ashamed of them, but because we don't want to share the pain with the people who love us.
You told me I am your everything but that is not a load I want to carry.
2. You ask me to be patient but I have given you so many chances I have none left for myself.
3. You only started treating me decently after you had lost me.
4. My fear of hurting you was what kept me from being able to put myself first.
5. Does chosing my own happiness really make me a bad person?
6. Does it really benefit you to blame me for your friends ditching on you because you became the person you are today?
7. Should I believe your countless mentions of how everything is going wrong and how it is all my fault? Shouldn't you be the one responsible for your own life?
8. I thought moving on would be hard but moving on from someone you don't recognize anymore is surprisingly easy.
9. Is a promise still valid when it was made to a completely different person?
10. Thank you.
I feel like poetry is always written from the heartbreak point-of-view. Try being on the other side. Knowing that chosing for your own happiness could destroy a person. (it feels so good to write again)
Shocking, really, how quickly things can change, largely due to this new burning and gleaming confidence. I'm like a river - free, flowing, and coursing, and nothing will ever confine me again.
Two months -- And a maybe 68 days -- And a .1% chance Eight more days To take upwards of three tests to see If my life -- Our life -- Is changing Or maybe I was right the first time, Just mine Because when I told you about worry You told me about clinics When I talked about Talking to parents You told me you didn't even want your mom to know Seventeen and Sixteen You tell me you don't want to be a statistic Another cliche But I don't want to be a graveyard I don't want to grow flowers either You asked me why I'm worried now And I have no words to describe the feeling in my gut The odd sense of paranoia With no evidence for my worry A little over 9 weeks And a trembling thought 2632 hours And anxious feelings -P.S. I'm keeping it-