I remember how I begged the friends to come to my party at the age of 21 how I faked my smile in the pictures, how I feigned joy to cover up my deep pain ,
I remember my cold birthday at the age of six watching television without any heat, as the mice crawled near my feet I remember the burning the lonlieness the longing of wanting companionship some love.
Looking back I chased all my friends many of them weren't so enthusiastic at times.
I did this my whole life I didn't know, that I didn't need to starve to be fed.
I am still learning, the other day someone complimented me, I was literally shocked, because it has happened so rarely to me, that I felt so much joy and love in my heart. that kind people exist, and than I cried about that deeply inside , about this notion this fact.
At my past birthday the" friends " that I had there, kind of ignored me went off to smoke, and I had to beg them to take my pictures.
I just feel so much disgust in my heart and soul.
When I saw her the other day, all I wanted to do was spit in her face and yell "FK You Btch ," you didn't deserve even one ounce of my fking presence.
Instead all I did was glare deeply at her and she the cowardess that she is , wouldn't even look at me or ever apologize.
Now I may be alone but I am choosing myself!
My people My places And My life . I am choosing I get to have Choice.
A pretty face; Two sides of a dime in it's coin to play Heads or tails, twisting the heads of men Only to be chasing tail Priceless-
A quarter of your love For the amount of time spent on Trying to impress an attractive attraction And how funny we'd call her such a dime, But have lost interests in not spending the Necessary time to say she's mine
These years, they ask us questions answers that tomorrow never knows, held in the arms of yesterday. The weight of this dreaming pushes the clouds onto the ground and our fleeting conversations with this flooding rain breaks the boats we built that were already too unfit for this ocean between the clocks we build and the time we chase
sitting in traffic staring at a horizon of red thinking of her unintentionally
i dyed my hair again taking comfort in being able to look different looking different than when i fell for people that were just shells of bad decisions and **** people that gave me goosebumps because they were so cold but i used to mistake the chills for butterflies
i've been worried about repeating myself cycling around my bad habits like i'm on a ferris wheel that doubles as a perpetual motion machine but i haven't texted her in a few weeks so that must be a good sign still
i listen the playlists i made when i was so busy over thinking i didn't have time to do my fvcking laundry i wore her sweater for days on end and i hummed those songs under my breath and now the melodies just remind me of how starving i was laying in the bed of nails i made for myself and they remind me of her. always her. and how she never gave a **** about me, but somehow taught me to give a **** about myself. these stupid, beautiful songs remind me of how much i pretend to hate her. and they make me want to write poems about the idea of her again even though i swore i wouldn't. on several occasions. and so this poem isn't about her, or the idea of her, or the stupid playlists i was obsessed with when i called her mine
this one is about the horizon of red as i sit stuck in traffic, staring blurring my vision on purpose as the crimson lights move at the speed of my slowing heart trying. trying. trying. trying to forget about her, as i think of her unintentionally. trying to live in a world where people don't always mean the 'i love you's that so carelessly drip from their open mouths. trying to care about those people anyway and pretend that i don't. trying to love. trying to love myself. trying to write more poems in the first person as a form of self care. trying to figure out if that counts.
trying to not be so fvcking lonly all the time.
i wrote this in my notes app in the car. if you can't tell ****. drink water, love. and remind me not to romanticize being treated like **** <3
I thought we were once so close, knit together close enough to know what's it like, to be ghost to each other, yet wandering out into our own colourful way of life, just that we are chasing different colours now.
colours change, seasons change, people change, yet I remain the same.