if there's one thing i try not to do
it's write the dreaded..
LVOE POM.
i would do without the eye rolls
but secret heart melts
and the awws
but the
*******'s
another one of these?
don't we have any other meaning in our lives?
i do
plenty
but i can't deny
that this is a part of me
i'm a hopeless romantic
by training
and in my mind
it's taken over my heart
and i can no longer tell the difference
enough for me to hate it
and myself
i am an empowered, "strong"
-whatever that means-
woman.
i should be
saying
**** IT.
i don't need no man
but let's be real
we all want someone
i want to hold your hand to show you i care
i don't want to analyze why i should kiss you right now
i wish i even knew what it meant to kiss you right now
why would i even need to kiss you right now?
but i get caught up in this fantasy
longer and longer
forgetting to remind myself that
i've never seen a successful relationship up close
that i grew up in a house of women
forgetting that i'm supposedly prone to marrying an alcoholic
surrounded by enough love that i should stop being so greedy
always looking for more
when it's never even been there
that isn't any different than the way my life has always been,
what am i expecting?

I am still me.

Still me.

I want to shout it from the highest places, just so that you can hear it and understand. Hear it and believe it. Hear it and trust me.

Still me.

Because that girl who dug around your garden and nearly ate night shade berries still exists. The one who crawled around on the carpets, playing with toy cars, she's still here. The child who sat cross-legged on the counter tops licking icing off her fingers is still alive.

She's still in here. Waiting for the day she sees the entire world. Pretending that she can fly even when the world has clipped her wings time and time again. Watching rain streak down the windows, admiring the ladies who traipse around in Victorian dresses when we watch those films you love.

She still awws at every sweet thing she stumbles across. And still hopes against all hope that she will live in an ancient forest. Who still adores Joan of Arc and loves to read poetry out loud.

Still me.

Still over watering plants because I have no idea when to stop giving.

Still up in the middle of the night dreaming.

Still singing.

Still here.

Still me.

That simple truth shouldn't change your opinion of me. Because it doesn't change who I am.

We will be alright, she says
Won't we?
We will be
With a deep blue sigh
I said, knowing
But not knowing if
We will be
Ever the same
But I hope it shows in my eyes
That I haven't slept
Thoughts berating my eeriest senses
Making me numb
Leaving me number

I know it's crazy that I'm empty
And you are still here
But I did dream of having you
Why can't I dream of losing you?
Our conversations are getting shorter
Why am I not surprised
The yearning; lingering no longer
Why does it always have to end
Like this.

It started with the longing
For your attention
And then you refute
And I try again and I get it
Then comes the indifference
Shades of loving-care, laced with awws; cute
Followed almost inevitably
By nonchalantness
Calls and texts unreturned
You think I'm cheating
Quarrels; often unwarranted
Then I start making you feel you nag too much
But you do
I'm sorry I say; the sighs within the apologies;
I'm sorry, Over and again

Now we are at a ****** of sorts
And it's not the kind that's found in clouds of nines
I can't keep going like this
I can't deal with this anymore Vic
Do you want us to end this?
Do you think we could be better?
Questions; more questions
Answers you already have

Then the accusations of deception
Of lies and deception; emotional blackmailing
This is a recurring phase
But it breaks me everytime
Letting go; letting it go, you go
I mean, I already let go before I met you
But I've tried, everytime, I try
And everytime I fail
And in picking myself up to try again
I make you fall for me, then I fail again

I'm broken in shards, and it's my pieces that hurt you
And me
And I would be devastated, but I'm already damaged
I would be hurt, scarred for life
But I don't have the heart

I don't have a heart.

expecting them to grow
even when they're buried
under the snow. Even as they hang
limp in her hand, even when

their heads are drooping
and colors are bland. She takes them
inside her home. Feeds them sweet
honeycomb. She sings to them

like a starling, coos and awws
and calls them darling. Plants them in
her fertile soil, only to see them
recoil. Day after day the petals fall. She lies

among them, weeps and sprawls. Remembers
the spring when they were lush. The memories
she has of her crush she stores in a drawer
as potpourri. And lives to write and tell the story.

My eye are for you to gaze into to feel the emotions that you can’t
                            Compare with just a stare, my lips are for you to kiss to the way you do
                          When I am not with you , my ears are to hear the words that hurt , you so  ‘                        dear when you tell me the way you feel is unclear, my cheeks when they
                        Rise to form a smile thinking of the joy you bring, my hands are to feel the
                         Warmth of your while walking down the narrow path, my arms to wrap
                        Them around you to feel your heart beating next to mine, my legs as im
                         Walking down the path towards you, as these tears fill my eyes begin to
                           Fall , my lips forming a smile to make me feel tall, my ears that hear all
                      The awws , my cheeks begin to go down a I begin to frown, my hands are
                     Hurting from holding the thorns from the ground, as I reach the end of the
                   Path I see nothing there but the pieces of me you left behind.