Pen to paper,
Writing my heart out,
The ink bleeding through the page,
Like the blood from my aching heart,
My breaking heart,
You fixed my heart,
And hey,
I hate your heart.
You ate my heart,
Tore it apart,
And left a scar.
This poem makes no sense,
But neither do you,
And neither do I.
My brain is a jumbled mess,
I can’t get my words straight,
They’re all crooked,
Uneven,
Disorganized,
This chaos called my thoughts.
I thought you said you loved me,
But I was probably just daydreaming,
Like every other time you were there for me,
You cared for me,
Fool me once,
Shame on me,
Fool me twice,
Still by bad,
I can’t keep passing on the blame,
Like a game of telephone,
One person to the next.
Like rumors being spread.
Yeah, I heard the stuff you said.
When are you coming home?
Oh, wait, I forgot.
You’re not.
You’re as gone from my life as my dead grandmother,
Only this time I cry no tears,
Except for the ones I leave on my pillow every night,
Like candies at a fancy hotel,
But these aren’t sweet,
They’re bitter,
Bittersweet,
Like our love.
That love I made up.
Hey, you can’t blame me,
I’m a writer,
That’s what we do,
Make things up,
Imagine,
Envision,
Create…
And get easily distracted…
I had meant for this to be a romantic poem,
But I had an epiphany,
There is no romance between you and me.
I don’t know what I was thinking.
I guess I’m going crazy,
But now that I think about it,
I always have been,
Totally insane,
According to Alice,
That’s a good thing,
So f*** you and your negativity,
I got storybook characters to back my case.
You sure as hell never did.
I don’t need you,
Your masculinity,
In fact,
Maybe I don’t need masculinity at all.
Maybe I’m into girls.
Just a thought,
Knowing you,
You probably think that’s hot.
Well, on that awkward note,
I’m closing this notebook,
Because you’re not worth my time,
Or ink,
And I’m killing trees.