When it was all over
I bought more pillows for my bed.
I needed to fill that space again.
You fill me to the brim
Like coffee on a Sunday morning.
Ive always loved that about you, you never gulped, you never rushed.
You paused inbetween, inhaling the brewed coffee beans.
You dipped into the cup with love and wonder,
Always took little sips to make the feeling last longer.
You need to know how much you hurt me.
I just want to love and support you because I ******* care. How can you say one minute that you’re so happy and then the next you shut me out like I am nothing. And I do feel like I am nothing. I haven’t even told anyone about us but they all sense something is up and tell me that it isn’t right.
Even my dad, who has never once in his life made it known that he cares about the matters of my heart says that I deserve to be treated better. That he knows what he’s talking about.
I still just want to ******* wake up and hold you and I am so ******* stupid for everything when you just don’t give a **** about me.
How can it be so easy for you to stop talking to me? How can it be better to be alone all night long? How are you unbelievably content in aloneness. It hurts to realize that maybe I do deserve better. It hurts to have this good thing ripped away from me. That I knew being vulnerable would only end in heartbreak and I did it anyway. Look at us now, is this really how it ends?
It hurts so badly to be waiting here, hoping you’ll come back to me. Hoping to see you happily walk through some door somewhere. Stupidly hoping to see your beautiful brown eyes light up again when they look at me.
and it hurts and it hurts and it hurts.
Crumpled like another page torn out of your journal.
Almost like I wasn’t good enough.
Am I not good enough?
If you didn’t like me, just toss me out
Crinkle and tear me to shreds
Thats how this feels
And years from now
You know I’ll still be yours
I’ll still be a page from your journal
The things that you decided you didn’t want anymore
me of a leaf
with each season
you change your colour
until one day you fall to
the cold, bare ground
it may seem sad, but
you add pigment
to the lifeless
soil, still so
Never tried shape poetry before but happy with the way it turned out. Accidentally deleted this earlier on, sorry if you're seeing it again :(
Freud says tattoos
And half a million perforations
Of the past
We are told to think outside the box
And yet alienated when we act outside of normalcy.