What’s the price for a moment of your time?
What’s the cost for a simple hug?
What’s the amount for sparing a moment of love?
…
I know you’re not to blame for all of my vices,
but all of these prices –
caused emotional slices,
while everyone assumed you were the nicest.
–S.
You were supposed to love me the most,
but instead you gave me daily improvement notes.
You were supposed to love me endlessy,
but all you did was judge me.
You were supposed to love me unconditionally,
but all you did was alienate me.
You were supposed to love me fully,
but all you did was make me hate me.
–S.
I’m grabbing at ghosts.
Reaching for something real, but it’s just smoke.
I’m grabbing at ghosts.
I thought it was mine,
almost.
–S.
The drought slowly kills everything.
It cracks the earth.
Dehydrates the plants.
Makes me question my worth.
Dries out my hands.
Been praying for rain,
to bring back some life.
You can’t bring back, what’s lost its fight.
–S.
Taking care of you –
is healing the child that never grew up in me.
My only wish for you,
is that you’re better than I ever got to be.
–S.
I’m losing the war –
that no one knows about.
I’m losing the war –
that’s without a doubt.
I’m losing the war –
going on within me,
just another casualty.
–S.
The rodeo tore through town.
The carnival packed up and left.
I thought we’d be better by August.
I should’ve been more honest.
–S.
We’re in the teething stage.
Feverish.
Grumpy.
I can’t tell if you even want me.
We’re in the teething stage.
I think before it gets better, it’s going to get ugly.
We’re in the teething stage.
Uncomfortable.
Sometimes swollen.
Sometimes bloody.
We’re in the teething stage.
I shouldn’t have to try this hard for you to love me.
–S.
Should I wear a heel,
or go for a suede feel?
Should I wear something leather,
pleather,
or scrap that idea altogether?
Should I tie up my laces,
will it get me faster to places?
Should I pick something with spikes,
or a pair meant for hikes?
Should I throw on some combat boots,
or stick to my roots?
Whatever I decide,
it can’t make me sway,
I don’t know what shoes to wear to walk away.
–S.
Goodnight butterflies.
Goodnight fireflies.
Goodnight crying eyes.
Goodnight laughing kisses,
and every day blisses.
Goodnight you.
Goodnight me.
Goodnight to all of the things we didn’t get to be.
Goodnight to all we did not see.
Goodnight love,
and goodnight again, to all of the above.
–S.
The Messy Middle 🖤 