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I gave, you took,
My heart,
My soul and time.
You left, I stayed,
Withdrawn and supine.
I was a still life,
In the shades and lights of day.
I wrinkled and went dry,
Through skin down to my core;
Was rotting and wasting away,
Like a Banksy on a rainy day.
If you don't know about Banksy, check it out.
Em 3d
I realize now that the love harbored for her soul was mindless.
It was nothing to her,
no matter how many times she showed me it meant something.
I realize now that her heart was instead made of stone,
and not made of the gold I imagined it as.
I realize now that my daydreams became nightmares,
because she left without a word.
Nothing was spoken.
The air was dry and left untouched.
Because I loved her.
And she didn't love me.
An illusion I suppose,
but if the stars continue to shine,
and she continues to live,
I will be fine.
She hated me all along.
And I wouldn't have it any other way.
My heart is thumping
like the stomping feet
of elephants.
Can you not
be so cute?
You’re making me act
like a clown.
If I could,
I would do
backflips like an
We all know
I’m no contortionist.
I’d try, though,
if it would impress you,
make you sit back
and eat popcorn.
But I can’t provide
that kind of entertainment
for you.
Not yet, anyway.
Keep buying tickets.
This is the revamped version of a poem I wrote when I was in college. We were assigned to write something with circus imagery and I popped this one out. It was probably the first time I ever took myself a little bit serious while writing poetry.
All I can do and all I can say
is I’m sorry for making you feel this way.
Angry, annoyed, “Will she ever get the hint?
There’s no chance I’ll love her, not even a glint.”

Best I can tell you is I know I’m the beast
who embarrassed herself until she finally ceased.
Battling emotions said there might be a chance,
while the other side knew this was only a trance.

Conversations commenced, started by just one side
and I bet you couldn’t wait until all of them died.
Calling myself out is all I can do
because now I’m too ashamed to apologize to you.

Don’t even worry, I know I did wrong.
Somehow I managed to string myself along.
Denial was in me, thanks to all of your smiles.
Now my dignity’s laying in tatters and piles.

Every time I think about how I once was,
I start to feel an uncomfortable buzz.
Endlessly tormented by my very own actions,
I’ve no one else to blame for my dissatisfactions.

“**** me,” I say. “**** my dumb, ****** brain.”
I am the source of my sorrow and pain.
For all that I’ve said and for all that I’ve done,
I wish there was one time I actually won.

Going, going, gone. I got out of some’s life.
Now I’m not here to cause you more strife.
Grateful, I am, that some still call me friend,
that you still care enough not to let it all end.

Happy, you are, that my flirting disappeared,
thankful this uncomfortable fog has now cleared.
Hoping if you read this you won’t be upset,
but for me it’s so hard to just stop and forget.

I want you to know that I bear no ill will,
for it’s me that I’m angry with. Always. Still.
I look at the night sky and see that it’s starry
and I just want to tell you that I am so sorry.
Because I'm the poster child for unrequited love.
elja Jan 15
the worst kind of unrequited love
is the kind
where your dearest loved one
who holds your heart
acts like
you hold their heart
as well
oh dear, how often it happens
vera Jan 15
I wish you look into my eyes,
And hear me when I say:
Oh my love,
Tell me that you love me
Even if you don’t mean it.
Not my best but not my worst.
Shila Jan 12
I'm done
no, not yet
I'll be done
maybe tomorrow
or would it be soon?
I will someday
it's hard to let go
just let me cuddle
with these feelings of mine
the feelings of being in love
with you
til then
I won't be okay
when you could not decide if you want to move on or not from a heartbreak
Meg B Jan 11
I stare blankly at the
bathroom wall
where the tiled portion
meets the faded blue paint
as it soaks in...
I liked it

The years of unrequited love,
the chase for affection,
the tortured artist
twisted up in twisted tortured

I spent year writing
dark poems,
letting the liquid manifest as a physical representation
of the tears shed
and bleeding heart.
Did I like it?

My existence was
wandering streets alone,
getting lost in melancholy songs,
wondering if love equated pain.

Then I found
what I told my notebook
I'd been searching for all along.
Someone loves me,
someone gives me love,
and I spent so much time searching for it,
enjoying the hunt and
getting gratification out
of my own self-deprecation
that I'm lost even though I'm found.

Do I like it?
Did I like that?
Do I like this?

I can't seem to decipher
affection and how it's supposed to
make me feel
versus how it does.
Did I like looking for it more than having it?

Am I so ****** up that
I love not receiving love more than receiving it?

I don't want to run; I want to stay;
I always used to run
     and away.
Meg B Jan 11
I have forgotten what
it feels like to be
It is so odd and
most definitely sad,
as I still know so
substantially what it
feels like to
My existence is so
for even when you
again shared your
body with me,
even though two years
time had passed since
our last dance,
the wall you built remained intact.
I searched every surface
in hopes of finding a *****
in the stone that,
with some effort,
could finally help me to
topple the blockade.
But your love,
or what I have (probably pathetically)
convinced myself
exists on the other side,
it is as well-protected and
well-hidden as ever.
So I soldier on,
fighting my losing battle,
feeling love for you,
the love from which
I am doomed to be destroyed,
shot down, blood staining the
beneath me,
no shield of your love
with which my body,
my heart,
could remain intact.
elja Jan 10
you always encouraged me to become a poet
yet i told you
that the words i needed
was too hard to find

then one day, you left me
and the words i had needed for so long
came to me
like snow falls on a december day
oh my
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