Sometimes perhaps you don’t want to be a part of me
Yes, it hurts me- a little bit, a lot a bit
but I understand.
You are yourself and I am myself-
You will do you, I guess I’ll be me

I still wonder though.
Who am I-
Why not,
What’s so wrong with being a part of me,
my life- who I am?
What’s so bad about me?

Is it because I’m not “pretty” enough
or “cool” enough
or good enough to you, to be a part of me? Associated with me?
Because I won’t just make you happy
I will make myself, my family, those I do- and don’t know happy
I will try and make you as well.

What counts as part of me?
Just that I’m nineteen, female, probably bi
born in Geneva, Illinois, raised in South Elgin, Illinois
but also raised in Westford, Massachusetts
both painfully boring towns; quiet, uneventful.
Does that make me as well? Is part of me South Elgin, Westford?
And then what else- what other parts of me?
That can’t be the only part-
So I’m also creative, loud, spontaneous
the part that makes me different
Is it so bad to be that part?

Part. Of. Me.

it sounds like a bad pop song. Is that why you don’t want to be
part of me-
Why is it that sometimes perhaps you don’t want to be a part of me?
Does that mean you won’t speak, look or think about me?
i don’t think that’s possible.
Am I really that much of a stranger?
I’ve known you for quite sometime -
You’ve known me
So can you even not be a part of me?
You can be yourself, as well as
Part of me.

so
yes
You are part of me.
As am I to you,
Just not all of me.
A single piece, maybe, a part,
that shouldn’t be too much to ask.
You can have alone time, but even then that doesn’t mean;
for the time alone, your part of me is gone.
What an illogical statement,

Sometimes perhaps you don’t want to be part of me.
You already are.

You are my sun bright
You are the daylight
Hiding the shadows of my mind

The memories that flew away came back again
Bringing back much heart pain
So why does it rain,
It feels just the same
As if I'll be on my own-
Without you

So I'm thinkin' about the memories through this song,
It helps me forget about everything that went wrong

Ecstatic moments feel painful now;
Even all the memories, even the longing,
Gets back to me now

I just looked at you, turned around and cried,
I wanted to find a place where I could hide

© 2017-2018 Poemsexpressionswords_truth. All Rights Reserved.

I want to run, I want to hide
From all the pain he caused inside
I want to scream, I want to cry
Why can't I just tell him goodbye

I want to move on; I can't let go
I love him more than he'll ever know
Memories come, when I'm alone
Thinking about all the things that I've been told
I want to start over, I want to be free
But this pain and memories just won't leave me

"If I am stressing you out, then you should just forget about me,"
How could you think it's so easy?
He hurt me bad, the pain is deep;
From all the promises he couldn't keep
All the things I heard him say,
Are in my head and just won't fade

How can I forget him, leave him behind?
Erase the memories from my mind?
He doesn't love me, and he never will
He will never care about how I feel

We tried it sweet and low.
We tried to step in time.
No one needs to know,
We own the sky.
We run too fast,
For everyone else.
We’ve got nothing else to lose.
We’ve got our strutting shoes,
Strutting down the lot.
And for all else, prepare the noose.
We’ll let them hang down low.
They’ll sink to the ocean floor.
We will be ourselves,
And nothing more.

Now harmony’s locked down,
Everyone’s looking out.
Don’t be too late for the show,
The best in Tinsel Town.
Deep water never drowns.
Our drive for all to know,
Our conquest of this contest.
Stand up tall and dress your best.
Pick your frame.
Write your name.
Glossy black and white pictures.
Love’s the greatest mixture.

This time’s for free,
So sing sweet jubilee.
Soft and sweet by design.
Sweet and low,
And it’s not for show.
You and me,
We can fly.
Dancing in one accord,
Just my type.

When one wants to express themselves
Do they use words
Images
Sounds
Actions
What?
We all need one right?
An outlet, for when human emotions pile up
And come overflowing through a waterfall
They need an outlet
Either they’re let out
Or
The pipe bursts
And it’s too late then

you don't quite fit
slightly askew
yet, relatable.

I see You.
A person revealing herself to a soceity of weak wolves
You are curious; a truth-seeker
asking questions that make others squirm
You have a deep desire to connect through expression
a need to be seen
You wish for transparcy paired with acceptance
You want to tear yourself open and scream "Look!"
"This is Me! Please, see Me!"
"In all my beauty and in all my ugliness. This, is, Me. Unfiltered. Naked"
"Please, please accept me."
I know this because it is
Relatable.

Relatable. The only way you would know this
is if I told you.
For I have found a way to blend in with the wolves.
I hide behind a careful wall built of cloth and filth.
You can only see Me when and where I allow it.

My face is usually in plain view, for society has told me this is OK.
(Ironic that is my only bit of skin that can change expression, unwillingly)

My other skin is hidden by clothe that I willingly bear.
A winter coat and gloves for the environment unknown.
(possibly hostile. it's better not to risk exposure)
A T-shirt and jeans for the familar
(stragically covering vunerabilities)
A bathing suite only for the most trusted

And naked? Rarely do I allow this, even around myself.
Because when I am naked all I see is the bruises from past abuses.
When I opened myself up and was rejected
Rejected by society and myself.

All the bruises bring me to bear cloth
But I will sincrely root for those who walk around
Naked.

You wrote compositions
All over her body, with your hands.
She will never forget the poetic scars
That you have left behind.

Within her, there is you.
But without your presence,
She is lost and lonesome.
Lacking the touch of your lips.

The touch, upon her exquisite skin.
The scent of you, will continue to linger
Throughout the room and on her clothes.
A constant reminder, that you’re still around.

Around but nowhere near.

n.n