This is not a love poem
I do not love you
Although I know I could
This is not a love poem
This is not a questioning
But a way of saying
I care more than I let on
A way of confessing
I think about you
More than I wish I did
I wish I could hate you
It would be much easier that way
I could write about it
And move the **** on
But I am stuck
Aware of the time I am wasting
By contemplating it all
By thinking too deeply
I can guarantee you
This is not a love poem
If it was
I would speak about the light in your eyes
How your smile
Is one of the brightest things I have ever seen
Your personality
One of the most addicting
If this was a love poem
I would tell you how much I want to kiss you
I would outline your lips with metaphor
Compare your tongue to honey
Write your body into a sonnet
And tell you how badly I crave it
I would tell you
How much
I long to be with you
How I want to waste
All of my moments with you
I would tell you
Everything I wish we could do
But this is not a love poem
So instead
I will tell you of how badly I want to slap you
Tell you that I hate you
That I want absolutely nothing to do with you
But the problem is
None of that is true
I could very well
Write you a love poem
But I don't think it would do much
I still don't think it would be enough
To make you have enough time for me
And the thing is
You are far too busy
For a girl who has all of the time in the world
She will never admit she's been waiting
But is a ticking clock in disguise
So much time has already been spent counting
All of the seconds
Each minute
Every hour
Days are milestones
Time is limited
It is better spent together
And I would much rather
Be alone with you
But this
Is not a love poem
I cannot incite beauty in something inconsistent
There is no romance
Only disappointment
And let downs
They are easy enough
To get used to
Do not ask me why I have trust issues
Ask everyone who has ever left
My hands do not touch without prints
Without leaving some sort of permanence
They say stay
Don't go
I want so badly
To push you away
But stay
Don't go
Because the way I think of you is a love poem
The way I speak about you is a love poem
The way that I talk to you is a love poem
The way that I can't get you off of my mind and out of my head is a love poem
The way I claim to hate you, avoid you, and pretend to despise you is a stupid ******* love poem
You are the love poem I cannot stop writing
This is a ******* love poem
This is my surrender
So please stay,
Don't go.

I wish I could hate you
It would be much easier
But I don't
In fact
It is the opposite
I cannot wipe you
From my mind
I cannot erase you
From my thoughts
And although
I can pretend that I do
I do not hate you
At all
Not
One
Bit
And that
Is the worst part
Of it.

I knew
From the moment we met
That you were going to ruin my life
And I was going to let you

I knew
When you picked me up
Your arms wrapped around my body
With the intention of holding
That you were going to drop me
More than once
And I was going to let it happen

See the thing is
You could break both of my legs
Shatter my bones
Into a million pieces
And I would still find a way
To come crawling back to you

Knees bloodied,
Hands torn from the pulling
I’ve never been one
For giving up easily

You could effortlessly
Take my heart and crack it open
Drink its contents
Throw the rest away
And I would still somehow attempt
To give you the remains

Call me selfless
But I am used to giving parts of myself
And receiving nothing in return

You could tie my tongue
My lips, my teeth
Split them into surrender
Into a foreign language
And I would still manage
To cough up your name

I have never learned release
Or let go
I only know stay
You could leave
One hundred times
And I would still wait for your return
With patience

Because kissing without permanence
Is like loving without memory
There is no purpose
If there is nothing to come back to
No reason in attempt
If it is bound to be forsaken

You had no intention
Of staying
This was something I knew
From the moment we met

That you were going to leave
And I was going to let you.

You remember how it felt
To give yourself away
And receive nothing in return
All you ever wanted
Was to be wanted the same
You were only fourteen
When you gave everything you had
To someone you thought you loved
And it still wasn't enough
For him to love you back

You were just a kid
You're older now
And a lot has changed since
But somedays you feel almost the same as you did then
Surrounded by all of this emptiness
Gained from guarding your heart for so long
You learned how to cover up
How to build a cage within yourself
To keep everything inside
To keep your crooked from falling out
To keep your weakness from showing
And for the most part
It worked

But somedays
You still don't feel
Like you are capable of filling up the excess
Of vacant space
Like you are missing pieces
From the whole of yourself
Like you are lacking too many parts
In too many places
You could never quite satisfy anyone
Yourself included
You don't believe it
When someone tells you you're sufficient
You have never felt adequate
Never worthy
Or good
But I want you to know
That you are
That you have been
And you will always be
Enough.

He told me
That I'm not over you

He can tell
By how everything I write
Has traces of you in it

I tell him
This is not true
That I do not directly
Write about anyone
Anymore

But see,
The spaces between words
That's where you fit in
I don't even need your name
For you to be mentioned
Just a hint of your memory
Or the way I describe
A body that is no longer next to mine
Provides enough insight
For anyone to guess
That you are still very much
On my mind

You are in every sentence
Every stanza
Every syllable
Every breath

But he is wrong
To say
I am not over
When I have already passed the finish line

Yes I still write you
Everywhere
But only because
I have nowhere else to stick you
And I like the idea
Of rewriting a story
In order to remember what you want to

You sound much better in poetry
Than you do in real life
And your description tastes much better
When it is drenched in metaphor

I like to make you
Sound pretty
Even if we ended
In so much ugly

He told me
That I'm not over you

He can tell
By how everything I write
Has traces of you in it

But I am over you
I have been
For quite a while

My heart
On the other hand
Is still learning
To let go.