poet – Page 11 – The Messy Middle 🖤

Chains.

The reality,

of this catastrophe,

is you’re bad for me,

but I don’t want to be set free.

–S.

Stay for a little while.

For my heart, you’re a maze.

I see you, through a haze.

You burn me, like a blaze.

My head is in a fucking craze.

Starving for you, but I’m just allowed to graze.

Time removes the glaze.

Nothing ever stays.

–S.

Run.

I run.

I turn every corner.

Mix up the number of lefts,

and the number of rights.

Down the hills,

and up the stairs in flights.

I run,

but it doesn’t matter how many turns,

or how fast – even when my sides burn,

because I always run right into myself.

I change up the paths, but they’re never any help.

–S.

What do you think?

Do you think you could love me just like this?

with acne scars that are hard not to notice.

Do you think you could love me just like this?

with internal monologues that don’t lean towards bliss.

Do you think you could love me just like this?

with eyes reflecting murky brown irises.

Do you think you could love me just like this?

with big wrists.

Do you think you could love me just like this?

with a tendency to vanish.

Do you think you could love me just like this?

Oh, how I wish.

–S.

Bag Check.

I open my purse, and all that is left is a sigh.

In the pocket, a voice whispering why.

In a tin, a few tears collected from a recent cry.

And a list,

with lie,

after lie,

after lie.

–S.

Unrequited.

Unrequited,

can we quiet,

all the voices in my head?

Unrequited,

can we quiet,

the feelings I have for you instead?

Unrequited,

can we quiet,

all the shit that we ever said?

Unrequited,

can we quiet,

the fantasies of you in my head?

Unrequited,

can we quiet,

never mind, I just want it all dead.

–S.

Again.

I’ve been lying again.

I know we’re trying again,

but I can’t let the past go.

We both know.

I feel like I’m dying again,

I’ve been crying again,

but I try my best to not let it show.

–S.

Bag Lady.

I drive by your old house.

I’m looking in every window.

I’m still trying to find myself, didn’t you know?

You’re moved on,

and you’re married.

I don’t love you anymore,

but it’s the feeling of being abandoned,

that I’ve still carried.

You’re hiking trails state-to-state now,

with only one backpack in tow.

I’m now a bag lady, didn’t you know?

I’m still carrying everything that you left behind.

You’re no longer on my mind,

but I still drive by your old house.

I’m looking in every window.

I’m still trying to find myself, didn’t you know?

–S.

Stripped Identity.

You take my virginity on a mattress, with no bedframe.

You tell me who I am as if I have no name.

You hit things around me, filling me with shame.

I don’t know how to win any of your mind games.

When you’re done with me, you leave faster than you came.

–S.

Certifiable.

Did you miss me?

Did you still want to kiss me?

Two yesses and everything is hazy.

Only you, make me this crazy.

No need to hide it,

they’ve certified it.

White room,

white jacket,

my heart,

you attack it.

–S.