It’s 2:39 in the morning and
I’m sitting on my fold-in couch
with my toothbrush hanging from my mouth.
This is not a poem.
This is the realization that hits me
out of nowhere
so suddenly,
so unexpectedly,
in the midst of something so ordinary.
This is not a poem.
This is me, at 2:40 in the morning,
realizing that you were never good enough for me.
That I chose to put myself down, to ignore
my wishes and desires
so as to please you.
That I made up all these excuses for you,
that I came up with all these reasons to justify
why you were manipulating me,
that I kept telling myself you’d eventually
admit to having loved me all along.
This is not a poem.
I do not need a metaphor to tell you
that I realized I do not need you.
That I realized I never really did.
Right now, at 2:43 in the morning
I have never felt more alive
than in this very second
now that I am free of you.
This is not a poem.
This is a goodbye letter to the me that thought she loved you.
This is me, at 2:45 in the morning,
knowing my worth.
I am made of a billion universes
scattered inside my eyes,
I am a billion trembles,
I am nebulous,
and it’s 2:46 in the morning,
I’m sitting on my fold-in couch
with my toothbrush hanging from my mouth.
This is not a poem.
This is the realization that hits me
out of nowhere
so suddenly,
so unexpectedly,
in the midst of something so ordinary:
I am so much better than anything you’ll ever be.

You can only give people the power to betray you.

You accept it'll never go away
No matter what you try
And that's it. That's all you can do

I had one chance
and I blew it.

You wouldn't look at me,
it was over, I knew this.

you ignored me and I wanted to cry
another lost lover, another goodbye.

I **** up often and don't know why.
you wished me well with life,

but without you, I may as well die.

From the sky
I gaze down
trying my best not to cry
I am finally free!
I can finally fly!

From the clouds
I can hear screams sung aloud
I glance down to see
a woman,
a man,
a child.

The woman is heartbroken
the man's shirt is full of sweat and blood,
it's filthy and soaking
the child has tears on his cheeks
confusion and pain slowly running.

I begin to die, as the child starts choking
I too, was in abusive relationship with a man named Life
the sun nor showers would stop him from beating his wife.

He loved me when it began
but he could never get past my affair with sin
then one day God heard my prayer and let me in.
To hell went my husband and boyfriend
I knew it was over.
This was the end.

She used to have so much Life is her eyes
but I guess it died, it left with her cries.

She used to fly light as a feather,
but now stormy is her only weather.

She used to play music and dance in the rain,
now she's stiff and numb with pain.

I remember that sweet little face,
please remember her name.

May she rest in peace.
Depression is to blame.

a pleasant smile on your face
made me wonder
how sweet you might taste---
passionate poetry inside your mouth
only then would you feel the words
I often speak about.

I wanted to seal the deal
let you know, a dreamer,
that this was real.
I was a angel in flesh
here to give your heart a rest.
Then one day you gave me a test.

You came over,
lust and anxiety on my shoulders
I tried to relax, I inched closer
I touched you nice and slow,
my heartbeat started to grow,
seeing how far I could go
but confidence is something I do not know.

I gave you my body like a ***
I gave you answers you desired to know
you only gave insecurities,
making me feel guilty and low.

I begged for our love
admitting my issues with co-dependence
but you laughed at me,
mocked my innocence.

For that I hate you.
I regret you, you *****.
yet you're still that addiction
I have yet to kick.

But know this....

You,
me,
and this feeling,
will be the last scratch
I will allow to itch.

I've become dangerous.
Poison pumps through my veins.
My troubled heart is to blame.

My arch nemesis is cupid
who seems Hell bent
him and every ex of a *****.

I Bet he gets paid
every time my soul gets broken
or some guy gets laid.

some devils have love made
while sweet Angels like myself
end up getting played.