You know, I used to think you were everything,
You were God's Special gift.
Around you I was so giddy,
I felt like dancing to swing.  

I used to think the sun shone out of your ***.
I died inside each time I could make you laugh.
I got down on my knees to pray for you at mass.
I wanted my love for you commemorated on my epitaph.

Your name *** everywhere I turned.
I thought they were signs so harder I yearned.

But time is a funny thing.
With it, what was once a  gentle caress,
Can become a bitter sting.

With time I learned you weren't God's gift,
You were just a *******.

Around you my heart still flutters and beats too fast,
But only because you're an *******,
And I want to kick your ***.

I still pray for you, but only because you've lost a good thing (me).
It's done, I've finally broken the spell (free).

Truth is, I really do see your name everywhere,
But only because your name is that generic.
You're not a gem, you're not that rare,
My wasted time is tragic.

This poem is mean and petty,
I'm usually more kind and demure.
But right now my words are cool and steady,
Things are different now, of that you can be sure.

I've said goodbye, I've shut the door.
I used to love you more than life itself,
But now I love me more.

I'm

M ourning
I n
S erious
S orrow

for you...


...That's what it means to me at least...

What does it mean to you?... Or does it even mean anything to you?

In the rare event
that you should need
something from me

No matter who you are
No matter how you've treated me
No matter my opinion of you

I will humbly,
kindly,
benevolently answer:

"No."

Arrested.
A Windsor knot
binds my
fickle neck
to my dour
shoulders.
Plastic ties
elegant wrists
in pair.

One question:
Head up or down?

I lied.

Another question.
Atop a question.

Am I

headed up or down?
Give me redemption
or else,
how can I ignore it?

One bedroom.
An eager clock,
minutes
from my set,
or expected
The End,
happily
leaves me to my
routine.

One question:
Head up or down?

I lied.

Another question.
Atop a question.

Am I

headed up or down?
Give me freedom
or else,
how can I ignore it?

Can I really be who I want?
Can I really be what I mean?

Will I ever solidify?
Will I ever come to?

And who will come?

(. . .)

who i am isn't up to you?
you helped paved it, yes
but i can change
to the person i want.

that sometimes, when i say "i'm fine",
i don't mean "save me" -
i mean i can figure it out on my own

- v.m

When I'm happy
He's always there
But when I'm sad
He goes away somewhere

When I speak in a joyous way
He will listen and talk all day

But when I speak about my sadness
He shuts off, driving me to madness

When I try to explain how this hurts me
He even further ignores me

Then when I cry about this pain
He steps back even further away

He might show up some time late after
With his excuses and attempts at laughter
But I won't laugh, or even smile
Because this pain lasts such a long while

I will just try to say
How he hurt me by running away
But he won't listen, as he does it again
Running away from my emotion

So to him, I plea and plea
Just to be treated respectfully
Just to be treated like he values me
Just to be treated like my feelings matter
Just to be treated with empathy, not laughter

For one who laughs at others' pain
Uses others' suffering to their own gain

And all the mean boys who makes girls weep
Are mirror reflections of him and how he treats me

I'm imprisoned
     Behind this static
          Screeching,
Echoing its sick
Reverberations inside my head
     But disguising itself
     As muck
Both in the expulsion
     Of my tongue
And the frantic scripture
     Of my pen working fruitlessly.

They say you can't love others
If you can't love yourself
But some of us love others so much
That we have no love left for ourselves
And that's the thing about people
Who mean everything they say
They think everyone else does too