I felt a wide variety of things that night,
drove home with a smile on my face but
a sinking feeling in my stomach that told
me to run. This was nothing but bad news
and I knew it. And I was sick of how many
times this had happened. And I was sick
of always letting it happen. But on I went
to make another bad decision. And the only
conclusion I can come to with all this is I
like being upset. Is that why I stay? Is that
why I can’t seem to let you go? Because I
like being sad? Or is it because I’m hoping
you’ll change? Or I’m hoping I’ll change you.
Or I’m hoping someday we end up working
and we can laugh and roll our eyes at all the
pain we put each other through. But I don’t
want that. I don’t want you. I just want pain.
So I guess I want you.
When you left
I swear the world caved in
or maybe that was
Either way, you left,
I rebuilt myself,
and I’m only getting better.
Every time I think of you
and all you put me through,
I can’t help but smile
that I never have to deal
with you again.
My heart’s got thorns
and with every word you say
the thorns tighten and scratch.
Some day these thorns will break me
and I’m not sure what happens after.
I haven’t felt a single thing
and I worry I never will again.
I used to be so lively,
nowadays I’d rather sit at home
than be with loved ones.
It’s like a part of me died when you left.
I knew it would happen;
I knew from the start
and I did nothing to stop it.
What happened to the person I once was?
I have a fondness for things from before,
things like games and music and pop culture
because it’s the only thing
that brings me closer
to who I was
it was summer,
you were warm.
I never wanted perfect,
you knew that.
someday, you’ll know
how all these poems, they’re all for you,
and you’ll apologize.
and I’ll say it’s nothing,
it’s just a poem.
I’m just in love with you,
I don’t have feelings for you.
You couldn’t give me the time of day,
but I wear a watch anyway.
You weren’t there when I needed you,
but truth be told I never needed you.
I needed you in the way I need coffee before bed.
You could be fun for a night,
but I’ll wish I slept instead.
Note: I found this poem I had written a while ago in an old notebook.