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One of the worst things I could have done
Is blame you for all of the things you couldn't have known.
Instead of telling you I always figured that you've known all of these things.
Forgetting that you too, are human.
Putting on this front that we aren't as vulnerable as we seem.
Knowing all of the things that I keep from you.
I realized my mistake only when it was too late.
Revealing to you all the things that I thought you knew.
The things you couldn't have known.
How your name drives me insane soon as I hear it.
Staring across from you embracing every moment.
These things not often said not knowing how you'd react.
If you'd really see how important you are
One of the worse things I could have done.
Separating these same feelings in the blink of an eye.
Not knowing if you truly felt the same as I.
Twisting myself in half not realizing how whole you made me.
Instead of telling you I always figured that you've known all of these things.
I love the way you look at me.
The nonchalant way you'd often speak.
Putting on this front that we aren't as vulnerable as we seem.
How I crumble at the chance I didn't pull you closer.
Too few gaps left to fill.
Instead of telling you I always figured that you've known all of these things.
All of the things I wanted to do.
All of the things I wanted to say.
The weight of cookies that sit on a shelf.
Often suffocate while no one watches
Never knowing the feeling of being in love.
They often crumble
shatteredpoet Jan 15
this is me
handing you the key
to the closet i've
stored all my
skeletons.
this is me
handing you the keys
to my
safe haven.

•|||°
Conversations can occur in many ways.
Many the conception of one thing, used to justify another.
It tends to happen more commonly if not at all.
A certain honesty revealed.
In the consideration of intimacy
Without coming across as too overbearing.
Yet we place blame on ourselves for not revealing how we truly feel,
Sometimes trapping ourself in the thought of someone else's happiness.
Obvious truths overlooked when the normal reaction is the total opposite.
The latter, already knowing how we'd like to be valued, received.
We express ourselves the same way.
Not truly knowing how it's to be received.
Obvious truths automatically assumed when true intention is revealed.
Instead we seek validation through a smile, a laugh.
Part of ourself hidden.
A habit of not wanting to project what we feel we lack.
Overvalued on whether or not happiness is then assumed,
Instead of saying how we truly feel.
We normally put ourselves on hold.
Fearing that our mouths may differ in opinion,
that how we truly feel.
May not be what the other person expects, or wants to hear.
Further putting ourselves at confrontation with what we truly feel.
Not truly knowing the risk that comes with how much we truly love
And how much sacrifice is required.
How often we express our likes and dislikes
How often do they go ignored
Yet we place blame on ourselves for not revealing how we truly feel
the doc said,
"try to trust people
more. show them that
you care. tell them
how you feel."

to which i agreed.
maybe, it will
help me.
clear my head.
fix me.
by letting others
see, just how broken i am
and allow them to
try and put
me back.

the next day i said,
"ma. wanna read
my poems?"

she said,
"im busy honey, maybe later."

i never asked again.
and she forgot.
i never went back to doc,
and my mom still
thinks i hate her.
meh
دema Aug 2018
it's so hard for me
to open up,
but once i do,
i can't stop,
and people don't mind
to step all over me,
so i build yet another wall
around me,
and opening up becomes
a mission not even Tom Cruise can make possible.
Cindy Jul 2018
"Dear poetry, allow me to offload my heavy burdens onto your shoulders.
You're the only safe place I know.
Allow me to ***** *****; allow me to stand vulnerable and real before you.

You are the only safe place I know."
nim Jul 2018
it hurts
to open up
and to be responded to
with nothing but
misunderstanding,
rudeness,
being told to "stop being depressed".
How will that fix me?
it hurts to open up when
opening up never gave me
anything but pain
with the people I love,
while opening up to a stranger
was the only comfort I could get.
But how can I trust a stranger,
when it feels like everyone around me
has become a stranger?
Elizabeth Jul 2018
I want honey and fresh roses at my doorstep but only from you. Is it wrong that I don’t want to be loved by anyone but you? I’m afraid I’ll get hurt again because the last boy with curly brown hair left me in the dirt for me to swallow pain meds and anxiety pills just to make it through. I'm sorry if I’ll never again be able to open up to love again as I did with him, I don’t want you to turn into a stranger who holds my darkest secrets. I want you to love me like rainbows after a storm and soft kittens cuddling up to say goodnight. I want you to love me. Love me.
Honey and fresh roses
Kewayne Wadley Mar 2018
And like a stone I fell.
Nothing quite the same.
Knowing stillness, I paced myself.
Falling fast.
Head first.
The best thing I've known.
It's not so bad.
Falling.
The fear of crashing, crumbling into pieces.
This seems the way to go.
Missing the experience that brought fear to life.
Stubborn.
Like a stone.
These cobwebs thrown to the wind.
Finding each breath more desirable than the next.
A feeling that I've waited for.
Sitting still.
Like a rock.
Afraid to fly.
Until you came along.
Shattered into a million pieces.
The expectation of anything else.
Without need to hide your hand
Kewayne Wadley Mar 2018
When I walked in I didn't know what to expect.
Each room highlighted in light.
A oral tradition. To make ourselves at home upon request.
In reciprocation we do.
The rooms we gather in, the ones we walk past.
The objects we fill to take up space.
The rooms a clear reflection of Spring.
The molding painted white.
I was told that some rooms are not to be visited.
Everything has it's season and this isn't one of them.
Placing blame on the rooms.
I want to explore them most I said.
The ones that go unseen.
The things we rarely shine light to.
The places films of dust continue to grow.
These are some of the best places to go.
The beauty of things we walk past day to day.
The smile unknown destinations can bring.
Cultivating the ideas we keep cluttered.
Gasping for air.
These are the rooms I want to explore most.
The parts of you that you strictly keep to yourself.
Only when you are comfortable to share these rooms with me.
To kiss the floor with our feet.
To dwell in the past staring into our future.
We are the pendulums trapped inside the clock
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