Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
How I want to help you,
But at the same time, I don't want to be any anywhere near you or anyone.
I want my time alone,
And you want me.
You crave for humans,
Their touch, friends, connections,
And I am happy alone,
Away from you and everyone.

It Physically hurts me, to be around you.
It mentally stresses me, to be in your vicinity.
I count the seconds remaining, every millisecond.
It's not that I hate you.
So it's the lamest of all the reasons " It's not you, It's me"
But it is, it is what it is.
You can't change it, neither can I.

You see me with others
Happy and talking and laughing,
That's only for a while,
You don't get that,
You can only fake for a while.
Then I need to come back and remove the mask at the end of each day.
But do you want to be there with me even then?
No! It's not possible.
I am vulnerable at the Moment
Like and injured tigress,
Like a naked woman.
I don't want to be near anyone,
The least of all, You.

I told you before it is so difficult for me to be with someone for all my life,
All my day night.
You thought it was one of my naive fears.
But I know me, better than you do.
I know it can never work out.
I know I was never meant to be with " the one"
I could never be someone's "the last"
Never was the Woman who will say oh we have been together for so long I can't even remember the years.

Because I will.
I can remember every second, past my wish to be with you.
I will remember each dreadful minute spent around you.
Where you were the albatross around my neck.
Making it difficult to live or die.
Then I will think about your death.
But isn't it a sin?
Especially for someone you love,
Then it will get worse, as you won't die.
So I will think about killing.
**** you, because I'm too scared to leave.
But isn't it illegal?
I'm bound to think like that.
Only if I were not this way, can't change.

Then it'll be my biggest fear/effort,
to save you,
From me,
But who will save me,
From you?
Can you love someone but still detest their company?
Brittany Hall Aug 2018
Get up and dress my myself.
I don't impress myself.
Need to express myself.
Not to detest myself.
Start to respect myself.
Outwardly reflect myself.
I won't reject myself.
Go out and test myself.
No time to rest myself.
I'll be the best, myself.
Samantha Marie Sep 2017
I detest your creation,
despise the thought of you,
loath your existence,
resent your continuous.
9/5/17
But you and I know that is the untruth
Crimsyy Mar 2017
I could chew my way
through all the armless hugs,
through all the silences,
but an infestation of truth
tore away the mask
which allowed me to pursue
such a mindless task,
and now I can no longer
act so automatic,
no longer just a passenger
in my own mind,
I'm either indifferent or dramatic.
And now the entrace is closed
for what I detest,
you're a part of me and
I hope you don't mind,
but darling, your knives
were always the hardest to digest.
taia Jun 2016
boiling hatred
rises from the depths of me
directed at you
Pauline Russell Jan 2016
I don't want to kick the hornets nest
But I am felling quit depressed
And begaining to get awful distressed
There is things I need to express
Because my chest is really compressed
I know it's from all the stress
It will be hard for you to digest
But I have to get this off my chest
This problem must be addressed
I think it is for the best
That all of it is confessed
I know after I tell you, me you'll detest
But maybe that's for the best

Oooh never mind
I'll just keep these hornets in their hive
And stay in the shadows and hide
Marie-Chantal Dec 2014
It's within the grown out roots
where the Garden Owl still hoots
Sings the melancholy song
Of how the blue eyed girl was wrong.

It's within the thatching of the dwelling
And a failed attempt at fortune telling.
Beyond the garden of the bugs
Beyond the magpies and the slugs

A moon was folded into quarters
Grind it with pestle and mortar
Strip it down to crater powder
Feel it till the song sounds louder

The Garden Owl sings his song
Of how the blue eyed girl was wrong
And under the brown thatched roof
The girl detests her blue eyed youth
I think I could work on this one a lot more, I guess it's sort of like a first draft, but what kind of write would I be if I did not have lots of unfinished pieces?

— The End —