I miss the crystal clear sea
Pouring out purity connecting our heart strings
I miss my curiosity to pry further in your brain
Driven solely by my desire to what you were thinking
Now it is skeptical thoughts that drives me and lies that fuel me
A confident woman turned unsure and worried
What a backwards love story
Where is the Power Move to win back my love
Where is the intimacy you used to convey to me
Where is the drive for me you had once possessed
A hello, a goodbye, and a kiss or apology in-between
I had more action when I was seventeen
So excuse while I reassess my life
Because, right now there’s no way I’d ever become your wife

i know you lied about your forbidden love
had to remove me to have her
broke my heart without restraint
hard to believe i loved a liar

I have lied with silence, smile and words
when I couldn't stand feeling unwanted.
I just prefer to pretend everything is fine.
Maybe.

I can’t believe you-
I can’t believe those words came
straight out of your mouth

10:33 AM
6/10/19

Baby, I lie all the time.
I'm good
It's fine
*I love you

*******
for everything you said to me
all the dreams you told me
all the lies you fed me
disguised as caring
i knew from the beginning who you were
but i refused to see it
i refused to see the flashing red lights and the blaring sirens
now the only lights i see are the ones on the ambulance
the sires pulsing in my ears
the medics screaming for me to hold on
i am slipping in and out of consciousness
and you don't even care
*******

i am a hypocrite

for a long time i wanted that word tattooed
somewhere on my body and i still do,
i think.

i cherish my ability to value the
wellbeing of others above my own…
that’s not why i do it
but that’s how it seems, isn’t it?

doesn’t my own lack of motivation
seem so **** selfless?

hypocrites only run into trouble
when they make it obvious.
for some reason, not heading your
own advice makes people very
upset with you.

i do it because
when the fall leaves break
off the trees and there’s
crimson on the sidewalk,
crimson dripping from the palms
of our hands…

well, the winner would be
whoever threw the first punch.