poems, poems, poems #3

Poems I put up on my Tumblr:

  • Topic: Phoenix

i did all I could to make you stay.

i cared.

i was vulnerable.

i opened up.

but i guess it wasn’t enough for you.

 

your actions never came from the heart…

instead, they came from your ego

-realizations.

 

i can’t say your name anymore.

you’ve become the “he who should not be named”

and i finally get why the mere mention of a name means so much.

it’s because it’s more than just a name.

it’s the whole fucking memory of you.

all the times i said it while i vented to one of my friends.

smiling because of the way it rolled off my tongue as i recollected a story that used to make me happy.

when i yelled it out because you were being “annoying”

using it as a foundation for a nickname.

your name has become more than just a name.

it’s a trigger.

those seven letters…

they give me hell.

 

i want to hope. i want to believe. that you think of me as much as i think of you.

that here and there you think about picking up the phone to talk to me.

that you think of moments we shared to make you smile.

that you miss me and you actually care.

that you’re not forgetting me.

that you’re not losing your focus on us.

Even though I know,

it’s all a lie.

 

confession.

i still have that picture of you on my phone.

when you were smiling and we were together, content with the world.

i can never look at that picture…

but i can never delete it either.

 

that “I miss you” text is never gonna come, is it?

because if it did…

it would be a lie.

 

“why wasn’t i enough for you?”

-my heart.

 

and after all this time i still delude myself into thinking you feel the same way about me.

-toxic.

 

no, it’s not the thought that counts, it’s the action.

because in that case, you’re just saying shit with no intention of following through.

 

it’s not easy for me to act like nothing happened.

that’s what makes you different from me.

 

you gave up and i gave in.

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how Life works

Sometimes i feel everything,

other times i feel nothing at all.

Sometimes i forget,

other times all i can do is remember.

Sometimes i feel loved,

other times i only get pain.

Sometimes i am strong,

other times i am brought down because of the worst in me.

Sometimes i can breathe,

other times i suffocate.

Sometimes i bleed,

other times i bandage.

Sometimes it’s Hello,

other times it’s goodbye.

Sometimes things work out,

other times they don’t.

Sometimes they treat me equally,

other times they treat me like a piece of trash.

Sometimes i celebrate,

other times i break.

Sometimes i listen to thousands of songs,

other times i listen to that one song on repeat.

Sometimes i act real,

other times i pretend.

Sometimes i have walls,

other times i break them down.

Sometimes the world is at peace,

other times… help.

Sometimes they pick up the phone.

other times they don’t.

Sometimes i believe,

other times i read the lies.

Sometimes i look up to the sky,

other times i look into my hole.

Sometimes it’s better,

other times it’s worse.

Sometimes it’s hard,

other times… it’s even more difficult.

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maybe.

maybe i’m shallow.

maybe i’m overdramatic.

maybe i’m selfish.

maybe i’m waiting for someone to take time away from their life to notice that i’m not okay.

maybe i’m waiting for that little piece of hope.

maybe i don’t want a mask of a smile anymore.

maybe i’m ready to admit that i’m not okay.

maybe i’m trying so hard to hold on.

maybe it’s hard every day.

maybe seeing other’s happiness is hard for me.

maybe i’m trying so hard to not listen to the voices in my head.

maybe i’m so confused about where my life is headed.

maybe i’m putting too much hope on future promises.

maybe i’m putting too much trust in people.

maybe i’ve been broken too much.

maybe it’s a sign that i should give up.

maybe this is just a phase.

maybe no one wants to ask.

maybe no one knows how to.

maybe people are focused on their own lives.

maybe i’m being self-conceited.

maybe i care too much about people.

maybe i care too much about what people think.

maybe trying isn’t working anymore.

maybe there’s too much on my plate for me to handle.

maybe i need help.

maybe i’m scared.

maybe i want to fix myself but i don’t know where to start.

maybe i’m waiting for someone, anyone, just to ask me

“Are you okay?”

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wounds

wounds.

wounds that had been sewn together.

wounds that forgot the pain.

wounds that had been “healed.”

have been cut again.

the stitches cut through.

deeper cuts.

deeper than the surface of skin.

deeper than paper cuts.

and the color?

red.

deep dark blood oozing red.

a red that would make a person faint.

a red that could mirror someone’s anger.

and isn’t that what you feel?

anger?

anger for opening up your wounds?

anger towards the person…

because they had the weapon hid behind their back this whole time.

stitches in one hand,

the knife in the other.

they put you back together only to give you pain.

to make the blood ooze.

and the knife is no longer in their hand.

but in your heart instead.

and how do you heal that wound?

again?

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the Truth.

If you’re asking me to admit the truth;

Yes, your smile literally glued some of the broken pieces of my heart together and brought sun to the dark places of my heart.

Yes, your laugh was like my favorite song on repeat and if i was the one to make you do that? i wish i could do that for a long time.

Yes, i would’ve rested my head on your shoulder for a lifetime if it meant i got to be this close to you in the safety of your presence.

Yes, i would’ve spent so much time with you because it meant i got to see your face and talk to you for countless hours.

Yes, i would’ve let you go on and on about soccer because i know it’s your one true love and the way you talk about your one true passion leaves me in awe.

Yes, your actions always had me overthinking and were on a constant loop in my head.

Yes, your smell was one that welcomed all my senses that if someone were to spray the cologne you wear all i would think about would be you and how close we were to each other.

Yes, your sense of humor made me feel special that i hoped you never talked about “vampires and werewolves” (amongst other things) to anyone else as goofily as you talked about them to me.

Yes, you noticing me has to be one of the best feelings on the planet and i just wish i knew what you thought once you would see me.

Yes, i would’ve talked to you for hours because talking to you was unlike talking to someone else. i never found myself getting tired of your stories.

Yes, the way you held me had my heart beating in a way it’s never beat before… it scared me how you made it feel. i wonder at such a close proximity if you could hear it too?

Yes, your touch affected me in a way it was if my heart stopped and what was always seen as impossible became possible for a second.

Yes, our hang outs made me believe in a content future where just being in the moment with you would feel like enough for me.

Yes, i wanted to stay on the phone with you for countless hours either lending your ear for a story or listening to you talk for hours about your day.

Yes, i would’ve looked at you for days on end waiting for you to look back and flash your perfect smile.

Yes, i would’ve kept a constant eye connection with you but the way you looked at me… it was too much and it scared me so i had to turn away after a while.

Yes, whenever i saw you face to face and talked to you in person at school i would always come home with butterflies in my stomach and a non-erasable smile on my face.

Yes, your words left marks on my heart and every sweet and funny thing you’ve said to me— i can always think about it and it never ceases to make me smile. Even if i was mad at you.

Yes, whenever you would say something only read about in books my heart swelled and i got a little bit of hope that you felt the same way.

Yes, i used to daydream about you and us being happy together like any other sappy high school couple.

Yes, the thought of “us” (if an us ever existed) scared me but if you ever felt the same way about me? …i wouldn’t know what to do.

But this is probably the way you make her feel too.

and i was nothing to you.

so i fade away. with these memories as chains.

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short poems 11:26 p.m.

poems written on 7.16.17:

Whole heart in. I get hurt. Heartless. I get hurt.

I get hurt. Heartless. I get hurt.

Heartless. I get hurt.

I get hurt.

 

Repeatrepeatrepeatrepeat

turn it off. let it go, they tell me

but this is my favorite song, I tell them

 

I want the universe to do us me a favor.

to bump into you one of these days

but maybe the universe is doing me a favor

keeping us apart.

 

I walked. I ran. I crawled. I stopped. I started again. I suffered. And you still haven’t let me into your heart.

8.06.17:

you didn’t bring the rain. you WERE the rain.

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poems. 2:04 AM

all written 07.11.17:

Whenever I was alone with you, it rains. Is it a coincidence that’s how you always make me feel sometimes?

When you didn’t talk to me and I didn’t talk to you the only thing that made the pain and sadness feel okay was the rain.

I put my feelings in. I start the cycle. But instead of cleaning, this cycle makes everything dirty: my heart and my soul.

breathe in. just thinking about your scent // or is that cologne?// that makes my mind lose control. throw up.

You had me. You had her. She had you. but I

never

had

you.

You think I didn’t say hi because I’m shy. But it doesn’t take a genius to realize that I never said hi because of her.

You touched me, Friend. You put my hair behind my ear, Friend. You spent the night with me, Friend. You want to know my secrets, Friend. You say “My,” Friend. But you are not my Friend.

You open your mouth and I call bullshit but then the tears are replaced with laughs and smiles and I start believing again.

Your fault. I feel bad. Your fault. I stop talking. Your fault. I confess. Your fault. You lost focus. Your fault. but why did i always think it was mine?

I prayed for you when I should’ve been praying for someone else.

Read. Opened. Almost as bad as “We need to talk.”

I thought you cared. You told me you did. So it’s not unrealistic to think that when I was gone you were thinking of me. But you weren’t. You weren’t thinking of me. You were forgetting about me.

I know what it would be like to let you go. I tried it but it didn’t work out. So what do I do now?

What do you want from me? Was I smart? For letting you go in the past? If so, why do you keep coming back?

Heart drops. Heart goes back up. Heart drops. Heart twists. Heart drops. Heart turns. Heart drops. Heart wants to give up.

I close my eyes and I can see his smile, hear his voice, picture him, smell him, remember him, drown in him. Caffeine, please keep me awake.

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