No second chances

To cry in front of you.
I've done it so many times before.
What makes this time...
all these times...
different?
Hot tears is all it is.
One more time for you to see.
Need a shoulder?
Too bad, it walked away along with everything you used to be.

Seeking help from the cold shoulder.

It's your face I could never forget.
Those eyes, that so many times made everything wrong right.
I still love them.
It kills me to hear you laugh,
the laugh that so many times laughed with me.
I still love it.
It hurts when I see her hand clutch your jacket,
the one that so many times was offered to me when I shivered.
I still need it sometimes, you know.
It stings when I walk in my room and see nothing but you
because of that one day when I decided to play house.
I still love you.
It's the memories I can never let go of.
They're the ones I escape to every night when I remember that I'm alone.
And every time, I ask myself the same questions:
Is it him I'm in love with, or who he was that I want back?
So...any insight?

I dare you.

What are you gonna do?
Hit me?
How can you hit something that isn't there?
How can you aim at something you've made invisible?
Right hook, knee to chin,
that's what you do, isn't it?
Your tough guy show?
Could you even do it if you tried?
Would it make you happy?
It would make me happy.
Because even a violent touch
is an acknowledgment of my existence. 

True Story

I'm not sure whether to tell you or not,
but I dreamed about you last night.
Sometimes I really hate myself for that.
I hate waking up.
You were crying and holding me by my shoulders
telling me how stupid you were,
begging for me back.
And just like that, I melted again.
For that one moment, I forgot everything.
I asked you to promise,
and you swore that this time you wouldn't leave me,
that you'd never make such a mistake again.
That's when I woke up.
I was crying, too.
But for a different reason.

But I am me.

Regardless of my obvious muscle-lacking physique,
I am strong.
Sure, it'd be nice to have someone there,
to call at 3a.m. when I have a nightmare,
to hold me close when I fall apart,
to kiss me in just the right places,
to whisper promises of always when I lay in his arms,
to tell me everything will be alright.
But no, I don't need someone there.
Crying until I fall asleep is totally normal.
Calling, hanging up, calling, hanging up.
Just part of my nightly mantra.
Having no one answer is routine.
I am an independent person.
No one else controls my thoughts or actions.
Just because the music I listen to,
the way I look at the world,
the way I talk to people,
is similar to someone else
(or a little more than similar)
doesn't mean that I can't think for myself.
It's my life.
Even if I pick out
my clothes and how I wear my make-up
just to get the attention of a specific person.
I make my own decisions.
Love is just the brain tricking man into reproduction.
No, I don't need anyone,
but my body is trying really hard
to convince me otherwise.

Just say it.

You must really not like me.
No, it's definitely hate.
For you to try so hard to pretend I'm not there,
to completely erase me from your realm of reference.
There must be something stopping you
from remembering that I, too, am a person.
I, too, feel pain and happiness and love and sadness.
We're actually very much alike.
But you refuse to see that, because you refuse to see me.
Somehow, though, I envy you.
Don't ask me how, because it's completely illogical
to be jealous of someone who hurt me as bad as you did.
Still, I do.
I envy your ability to forget
because so many times I've wanted to pretend we never happened.
I wanted to tell myself that I had no idea who you were.
I wanted to forget everything you told me,
everything you gave me,
every kiss,
every hug,
every kind word,
every promise.
At this point, I wish you never looked my way.
I wish we had just ended as partners that one time,
then gone our completely separate directions.
I've played the what-if game too many times.
Nothing is going away.
You really must hate me,
if you can convince yourself that I never mattered.
Once I can tell myself that I never cared,
I will be stronger than you and you will envy me for once.
But I couldn't...
Because I know I'd be lying.

Story time!

Girl saw Boy.
Boy steals Girl's heart away.
Girl gives Boy everything.
Boy throws Girl's heart
to the ground.
Jump.
Squish.
Stomp.
Dead.


...Yeah, I've been meaning to get that one out there for a while now. Something tells me that I should post more than poems every once in a while. So here goes nothing:
I'm stressing. A lot. I want to throw up...pretty much all the time. No, contrary to popular belief, not on purpose. Sometimes my tummy just decides that it needs attention. And it's a bitch.
But today was half decent. I'm convinced I don't completely suck at life.
"And so it goes, and so it goes. And you're the only one who knows."
Ahhh, yes, good times with that song.
...I think that's pretty much all I got...I'm not very good at this game.
Just keep smiling.

Memoirs of a Single Mom (Part 2)

Pitter pat, pitter pat,
little feet in the hallway,
dragging the little green blanket behind them.
The one with the embroidered teddy bear
that he got for his last birthday.
He peeks from around the corner,
thinking I don't see him.
As if I didn't hear him
get out of bed in the first place.
Another flash of blonde hair
and a single chocolate brown eye.
I smile to myself
and prepare for the game to come.
He thinks he's so sly, so slick.
Naive two year old logic,
and still so cute.
Giggles coming from the corner.
Pitter pat, pitter pat,
little feet from the hallway.
I turn and scoop the boy up,
the one running at my legs.
My little boy.
Screams of laughter from
that tiny, toothy smile.
Flip him over and hold him tight.
Raspberries on his bare stomach
make him kick and squirm
and laugh and shriek, louder and louder.
And I laugh, too.
Because it's funny for me to realize that
I can hold my world in my arms
again.

Losses.

Not sure what to believe.
Lost hope in pretty much everything.
You said You would help.
I remember what they always told me:
"He listens, and if you pray, He will show you the way."
Well, I prayed.
Now what?
Doubt.
In pretty much everything.
What's left here for me?
They're always telling me:
"We're here for you. You still have us."
Thank you, but there's nothing you can do.
My fate rests in the hands of one person
that won't look my way.

All you need is a great big congratulations.

Congrats.
You've moved on.
You can brush past me like I'm not there.
You can pretend you don't see me
when you're new ho hooks around your neck
just to mark her territory.
Congrats.
You have new friends.
You have new people to hurt.
You have more people to turn against you
when they decide they don't like the "new you"
and you end up alone again.
Congrats.
You're back to square one.
And maybe when the dust clears,
you'll see my silhouette getting smaller over the horizon
close enough for you to reach out and pull back.
But will you?

To the one that cried for me, not with me.

You gave me your bed,
so I could lay down and ask myself what I did wrong.
You gave me your hand,
to squeeze tight when I wanted to scream.
You gave me your shoulder,
for all the times I couldn't hold it in anymore.
You gave me your stash of make-it-all-better snacks,
when I felt sick to my stomach but needed to eat my feelings.
You gave me your time,
when someone couldn't spare the time of day.
You gave me my confidence back,
even when I didn't (and still don't) believe that I am beautiful.
You gave me my reality,
showing me the good I had left when my world collapsed.
You gave me strength,
even when I just wanted to drop and weep into darkness.
You gave me a good slap in the face,
when even I knew I was being irrational.
You gave me a support system,
for all the times I needed someone to hold me up.
You gave me hope
that there was always tomorrow.
You gave me a friend,
when my so-called best friend disappeared.
You gave me a sister,
but one who couldn't judge me and tell me to stop whining cuz she can't live with it.
But above all, you gave me myself
when I thought someone walked away with everything I was
and left nothing but a shadow of me behind.
You gave me the colors to be me again.
And for that, I am proud to say: I love you, soul sista. :')

Shout out to my girl! You know who you are ;)

Big thank you to biology class for this one

Let's see, how angry/angsty/emo do I feel like being today...hmm...got it! Make way for the swearing and whatnot:

Clear me out and push me aside
to make way for every other bitch
that may so decide to befriend the asshole you've become.
You're just so impressive, aren't you?
So many talents,
so many friends,
so many goddamned interests,
so many things that just aren't you.
I really, sincerely hope you enjoy hell
or whatever "life" comes to you
when the next broken heart carries out exactly what I want to do
every time I look your way.
Or even better,
the emptiness that follows when you become the victim.
To be honest,
no one gives a shit about what you do.
They're just scared of you is all.

Why the fuck do I want you back?
You're an ass, you broke my heart,
and I know it,
so could you kindly just shut the hell up?
And get away from here, anywhere, everywhere.
No one wants you around, really,
except, apparently, stupid me that enjoys the abuse
and heartache.

But go back to the September you.
You remember.
You couldn't forget.
That's when I made you.


No, this is SOOOOOOOOO not about anyone in particular...or is it?

What to do with the remnants of a dead relationship:

A) Burn everything. Clear it and erase it from your memory. And bask in the glow and warmth of pure freedom.
B) Store everything away. Out of sight, out of mind. Then come across it in the future and:
       I) Laugh at how stupid you were.
       II) Cry like he just broke your heart. Try desperately to get in contact with him to beg for him back...again.
C) Keep going as normal. Force yourself to look at everything that reminds you of him until eventually, it doesn't hurt as much anymore.
D) Deny it. Tell yourself, "We're still together. He just needs some space, some time to himself. He wouldn't leave me. That girl over there that he's holding hands with? Hugging? Kissing? Texting, calling, telling her he loves her? Doing everything we did...no, wait, do? Yeah, she's just a friend." Because you know he'll come around. Really. He always does...right?

Memoirs of a Single Mom (Part 1)

Constantly whining, always crying.
Oh, God, please make it stop.
Quiet him down just for a minute.
Send me peace.
No, I want this.
He was my choice, and I will be strong.
I will take the challenge and succeed.
We knew what we wanted him to be,
and he will be more than either of us imagined.
I alone will make it happen.

A favor of you, if you will.

Mind if I borrow something?
Not even something you need to give me.
Just something for me to use
for a minute or two.
You were there with me once.
Don't you remember?
And all those times,
those stories you told me about.
Just a minute or two is all I need.
You could at least spare me that,
after everything you’ve put me through.
No big deal, really.
Everything's fine.
And it'll be quick.
Easy.
Through your room,
out the other door,
to the left of your dresser.
Over the rail.
Falling,
falling.
Contact.
Nothing serious.
And no,
don't bother thinking of me
every time you go out there.
Pretend it never happened.
That shouldn't be too hard.
Not for you
who has a heart of stone.
That is,
if there's one there at all.
No, play pretend like you used to with me.
Make believe I wasn't there.
Tell yourself there was nothing you could do,
that nothing was your fault.
Pretend you never saw it,
like you did with me,
which made me ask this favor of you.
So please,
can I borrow something?
Just for a minute or two.
This one final request
that would get me away from you for good.
After all,
isn't that what you wanted
from the start?

Intro

So. New blog. Good stuff. I'm sure I have a lot to say, but it may take me a lil' bitta time to think of something. Huzzah.