when I think of regrets in this life there are more than I could count on both hands and feet regret is natural and normal and healthy but some of it is not the kind that creeps up on you day after day when your brain isn’t fully involved in something or a conversation and so there is space to fill with memories, ideas, or a bunch of nonsense or all of the bad things you’ve ever done in your whole entire life I’m not sure if I’ve ever really told anyone or said them out loud even the past ruminates in my conscious waiting to bite me in the most random moments when I least expect it several sentences in and I still can’t get it out the words are there right behind my lips but I can’t get them out I might die one day being the only one who knows
you loved me in your thoughts and thought that you loved me for all i was a mere thought that could never become your reality so you bled on these pages tore through your cages and wrote and wrote and wrote rowing your sinking love boat merrily down the stream living a ****** nightmare you oh so lovingly called a dream and now you think you want me back but all you want is the idea you've had of a girl with broken wings of an angel who sings but i ain't no angel baby i am the devil you don't want to see who'll never ever fall for you i am a lie that'll never be true so ******* and your make ego for you'll never be my story's hero i am the main lead of my tale a peak that you'll never be able to scale
to all the guys who thought they loved me no, you never did you simply liked the idea you created in your stupid little head of a soft girl who needed you to fix her but that was never the case i never led anyone of on you did it to yourself thinking you could tame the fire that burnt me alive thinking you could give me a reason to survive so fuvm for loving someone who never existed and trying to become better men
if i play with your hair, i just didn't know what to do with my hands. i'll write a poem and try not to feel pathetic, i'll keep hoping or come to terms with you not really caring where this'll go. storybook ending, beat the odds, or straight into a brick wall. i don't know. i'll kiss you goodnight and wonder who you dream about when you close your eyes. we all have ghosts we want to love us. naked skeletons in the closet that our memories dress in skin. seasons change, flowers wilt, lovers leave. i feel so stupid wishing that you wanted me.
BOOM! Just topped us both, and topped off my glass. At least yours is half full and not half empty. Convenience!
Get it yet Fido? Killed another one of your friends, right before your blind eyes. Can you do anything but sit, and roll over?
I never looked at poetry as something you win, but it looks like i am in the lead. Do you really have a muse? She is an airhead. Sometimes i wonder if you even have a muse. Nice glass you fools live in
standing in line double sets of suns double sets of eyes measuring distance should be a cruel existence behind woods hoping not at all one time before the fall of one dreary night in September a once in a once to remember getting older hanging crosses from other shoulders problem on the days all silent to the couldn't say if the later flowers would stay if the book's pages would decay not in any in anyways