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South City Lady Sep 2020
why are we
so crudely made
when placed along side
our conceptions of love

we fall miserably short
of caring, listening,
giving, receiving
yet in our dreams
there is no threshold      we must cross

the slip into love
is as effortless
as the moon's benediction
after an autumn night's
prolonged slumber
Ady Nov 2017
Let me tell you why i cound't love him,
when all he thought of me was idealized
like some fairy in a fairytale ready to
aid him on his quest on his story.
How he loved my dyed hair or how i never
seemed to settle on a color
but not because i was fickle  and adventurous
but because color fades naturally.
Let me tell you how he treated me like some
discovery, a treasure for greedy pirates
and suddenly i wans't even a person,
i was his involuntary manic pixie dream girl;
a level in a game, a mage to give him answers
when i didn't even understood the questions.
How i was somehow supposed to teach him
life and love when its just me being me,
a girl attempting to live her life and every flaw
suddenly glitter covered and gold encrusted;
my anxiety reduced to a quirk and my depression
just so edgy.
Let me tell you that I couldn't love a boy,
-selfcentered and presumptious-
when all he saw in me was a character and not
a partner.

A boy who never even knew me but pretended.

— The End —