How cliche
Something happens and she writes a poem about it.
Obviously she would.
She wants to go off on some apology about how she never meant what she said or never meant it in that way but does it really matter anyways?
You already know everything. You know she’s ****** up you know she’s self assured but in the worst ways. She’ll give you everything you’ve always wanted, and then just take it all away. She’s self centred and narcissistic and rude and carries herself so poorly.
You don’t need to worry about her because in the end of the day there’s nothing you can do. She has been given it all by luck. By pure luck. If she ****** it all away it’s her fault, hers and only hers. She’s a dumb little girl who doesn’t know reality. She’s a stupid **** who can’t face her insignificant pretentious anxiety. She’s a ******* ***** who gets overwhelmed and cries. She hurts people without even trying. And gets hurt when she gives. So she deserves to stay up for weeks thinking of how to make it right.
She deserves it
She deserves it. All the hate she’ll ever get.

I reread something old I never sent you
Begging you to help me fix what we had.
Begging me to let me help you.

But you shut me out. You always have, the more I push the more I try to figure out what’s going on in your mind
The more you pull, the more you retreat, to black corners of your thoughts I’ll never see

You show me songs of love and loss, the woman who spits fire, you tell me to listen to the lyrics and I’ll figure out your hearts true desire.

But your actions speak louder than the words you never did, they scream over speakers in old cars & tire skids.

I am but human.

You leave me with a thousand puzzle pieces, waiting for me to put it together
But the pieces are mixed up, worn, & weathered. Theres smile lines in frowns with tears, there’s hurt and sorrow for so many years. And all I want to do is figure it out. Quench your thirst in this awful drought.

But you could care less it seems.

I get upset. I get frustrated. I lay awake at night. I try to figure out what I can do to make it right what I can do to help you to show you I care and there’s nothing— because at these pieces I stare just trying to put it all together. Just trying to make sense of it all.

I need your help,

I’m so focused on putting you back together my own pieces are starting to fall.

the child inside is still begging you, please. Please.

Talk please, say something, anything

for silence is not the absence of sound but the presence of something else.

He's right

I've got too much baggage
I'm too ****** up
I'm disgusting
I told everyone it doesn't effect me but it does.

He told me everything I've ever hated about myself,
from day one,
I've thought, I've said
all of these things.

It's really no surprise to me.
Maybe he's just the only one that could be honest.
Everyone was else was just too scared.

Everyone who knows me, agrees with him silently
but tells me it's okay
that everyone deserves love
but it's hard for me to think that way.

I will never inflict myself on anyone ever again.
I'll keep people close, but not too close
mere acquaintances or friends

I'll hide my true self deep inside
until the very end.

it's a grey day
but it's okay,
we'll be alright
we'll figure it out,
maybe not right now
maybe not tonight
but we'll figure it out
in time
in time.

I feel sick, I'm laughing and crying while I'm talking to you
it's like the void in my heart isn't so gaping and huge
anymore. It's like my hearts trying to escape my chest it's like are we friends or are we what
yet?
It's like I can't breathe but I haven't felt this okay in so long
and I'm sorry that I ever left and I'm sorry I was wrong but now you're the same but you're different and you're you but you're not and I've got new tattoos and your hairs not in knots and

I'm just so lost.
I'm just so so lost.

You call me bro like some girl you just met at some party that you can't stand the way she talks
and when you walk away I wanna scream stop, please stop
stop
I need a moment to collect myself
I never got rid of the things
they sit hidden in different parts of my shelf
and pictures between book pages so maybe one day I'll find them accidentally, what a funny way to deal with my heart breaking over and over again uncontrollably.

I don't know what's going on
I'm usually so calm and collected
Maybe it was the song we sang
or maybe I'm just at my wits end.

You text me again,
my best friend.

Sorry dear,
but I'll never be her, and you'll never be him.
We tried to patch these cracks within
with affections so shallow,
infatuation so strong, bound by winters nasty scowl.
The summer melted the ice between the cracks--holding us together, still, we sustained through warmth & wet weather.
You hold on by mere threads, tethered.
For I'll never be her,
and you'll never be him
ever.

The rain beats steady on the window pane
distraction from my ringing ears
and stomach ache.
Like the passing of birds swiftly south in flight
here for a moment
then steadily floating from sight.

It's not that you're missing dear,
I'm just missing you tonight.

And the memories held so near
and so close to my fragile heart,
burn holes in my chest
but I could care less
I'll take my insides charred.
If it means I can feel the way I did
so long yet not so ago.
If it means I can still see past summers so sunny,
and winters so dim and cold.
With Christmas lights lining the streets
and heavy footsteps in the snow
who knew that years later

I'd be blowing on the embers
of these memories burning my soul.