Push.

When you love someone who doesn’t deserve it, it feels like you’re watching yourself from above.

I know better than to tolerate your mistreatment, but like a car crash I can’t divert my gaze.

This hold on me that you’ve had for entirely too long is not due to any qualities about you that could be considered even remotely special.

I know you are no good, but still thoughts of you linger in the back of my head.

I thought about you today, and I almost said hello.

But doing that would lead you to believe you still have some form of hold on me.

You see, for a while you did. I loved a person who did not deserve it.

But when you love someone like that, you eventually come to your senses.

It took a while to fall back down to reality. But I am here and I am better than you could ever imagine.

 

Tart.

Some days I feel so scorned.

I think about the way you left

the way you forgot me.

You were here and then I blinked.

You filled me with hope and promise.

You made me taste love.

I was resistant, I had my walls up.

You assured me my heart would be safe in your hold.

Now here we are and you are gone.

You didn’t utter a word, just left this life we planned to have.

It ended as quickly as it started

And I’m left with regret, wishing I hadn’t let you in.

Unrequited.

It’s not love if it makes your skin crawl.

If you find him talking about himself more than asking about you.

It’s not love if you have to remind him to call.

Because if he cared, he wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about you too.

I’m no expert and I’ve had my fair share of pain.

But if he loved you, you wouldn’t feel this way.

It hurts right now because you feel his distance

wishing more than anything that you could change his mind.

But you are more than the affirmations you aren’t getting from this man.

It’s not love if he constantly makes you cry.

Beneath.

It is the addiction that crave.

When I love someone it consumes me.

Staying up all night talking

I want to know more, more.

I am good at beginnings.

Intriguing, inquisitive, charming, sexy.

It’s the middle and ends that I struggle with.

Grasping to every word, uncomfortable with the space developing.

Why haven’t I heard from you, whats happening in your head?

It’s that consumption that drives my insecurities.

Making me the worst version of myself.

No longer am I mysterious, no longer am I cool.

I transform into a sad, big eyed thing

looking for any form of interest to hold on to.

The beginnings though, boy I am good at the beginnings.