Show me that you are a monster
That you are a bad person
A bad influence
That you are bad for me
Cause i need to hate you
A really need to hate you
So i will stop loving you
But deep down i know
That even if you show me all that things
Even if you ******* destroyed me
I will still love you with all my heart
And all my sould

Today I realized
Why we never worked.

The problem was, you were
The only good thing in my life.

When the rest of my life was in shambles,
You were the only good I found everyday.

You took advantage of that.
Because I gave you my all.

But your life, your life was good;
I was just an extra piece of the puzzle.

When you realized that I didn't fit;
You just passed me off because I wasn't
Necessary.

The problem was my life.
I thought you were my life, because I needed
You to be my life.

Too much was going wrong.
Too much was ****** up.
But you were perfect
To me.

The problem was always me.
Me; and my horrible life.

"I miss your love"
she said.

I used to write you poetry.
Last Christmas I made you a journal;
You loved that.

"Things are different. It's a really strange change, isn't it?"
I replied.

"Yeah they are different, you don't love me anymore."
"I miss your cuddles. And your laughter. "
"But mostly your love."

Your three texts remain unopened.
They've been haunting my phone screen
For the past hour now.
And that's how the unsaid things remain unsaid.

tar pit black waves
over my frail heart,
making it weak,
                          weak,
                  weak.

i cannot function,
nor can i think,
all i feel is resentment.

at times, at scary times,
it suffocates me.
it's like i can't breathe,
                                     nor see,
                                                nor do,
                                                       nor feel.

i feel empty,
barren,
deserted.

and it ******* hurts.

it ******* hurts to feel empty when all you have been trying to do is fil the void.

it ******* hurts to try your hardest again and again just to be hurt again.

it ******* hurts to feel so volatile. so ******* volatile.

it ******* hurts to say *******.

it hurts everywhere, and i am explosive.

i feel like my eruption will cause a disaster, turmoil, outrage, turbulence.


but i don't care.


because it ******* hurts to put everyone before yourself and be disappointed every ******* time.

I've read the old poets and they're boring.
I've read the modernists and there might be something to it.
I've read my contemporaries and they're strictly hit or miss,
but I don't read my own because I know it's all ****.

Is it bad how good you make me feel?
Is it odd to feel this normal?
Is it dangerous how safe I am in your arms?
Is it bad I'm falling in love with you?
Because if so I'm bad.

Coming to think of it
I've come across many perfect souls
The souls where everything fell in place so well with mine
The coincidental matching clothes
The not-so coincidental birthdates
But as i grew older,
I realized more and more
For the soul I'm looking for
Is a not too perfect one
He's the one with a broken heart that fits mine
He's the one who's flaws that loves mine
And in the end
Him who I will love
Loves me for who I am
And I guess that's what makes me love him