Set The World On Fire

My mind was just a jumbled mess
trying to compare to society’s best

Two nights ago,
I had a dream,
About a diamond on my ring finger,
And you kissing me.

Tonight, I fear
All it will ever be,
Is just a dream.
Just a, “I was kidding.”

Haha

But I can’t forget the way I felt so carefree,
or the way I smiled so wide it crack my face in two.
Or regret the perfect equilibrium.
That was my dream,
but now this nightmare has taken over,
and I won’t say I’m sorry.
Not this time.

This is all on you.

You smirk as you leave with the last word.

“you never show respect for other people,”

And yet, you think that you deserve my respect right now?

After blaming everything on me.

Fuck you too.

I’m tired of this shit,
Its really not worth it.

I’ve tried to have you hear my side, but you overpower me and talk down at me some more.

Its not enough to just talk it out,
You always have to be right.
You always have to be the “bigger and better person”

Not in the since of you taking a higher road, no.

You’re down they’re in the muddy swamps.

I wish the crocks and bugs would eat you alive. Cuz my words don’t kill when they’re swallowed by your obtuse state of mind.

You were supposed to be my shooting star.

My wish at 11:11

But when I said, “go”

you left.

You failed the test,

and I always thought I’d be the girl who never said

what she didn’t mean,

but I was wrong.

I guess you bring out the unexpected in me.

And I wait for you to contact me first.

Cuz that’s the way it works,

but you won’t because I never asked you to.

See boys will do what ever you ask of them,

but you have to ask it, out loud.

They are confused beings,

and can’t think like us girls in our tangled webs.

I wait for him to come back,

filled with regret, because he knows

he made a mistake by leaving

But he won’t because I never asked him to.

I just asked him to leave,

after not fixing this stupid fight,

but really? It can’t be me apologizing all the time,

and fixing whatever it is YOU don’t like.

You should fix YOURSELF too buddy.

And I’m tired of always ending in tears

because of a stupid mood fluctuation

and I’m sick of being talked down at,

like I’m not an equal.

I always thought I’d be the girl who never said

what she didn’t mean,

but I was wrong.

I guess you bring out the unexpected in me.

The only thing I’ve learned in life so far, is what not to do.

I wonder if your eyes are as critical as mine,
When I see pictures of us together.
Do you focus in on my too round waist,
Or how my arms seem so large?
I’m wondering when you’ll see my flaws.
If you haven’t already.

Sitting on the gym floor,
Surrounded by amazing people.
After a year of fun
Ditching class,
Going to Dennys instead,
And then a hotel/casino
Because you ate too fast.
Longing to be free, but scared
Of unscheduled amounts of time,
Endless.
What will life be like
After high school?

If I could love unconditionally
You would be the pavement beneath my feet,
and the sun that burns my skin,
but it was on accident so
I forgive you.

If love could be unconditional,
My mother would still be my best friend,
And I’d be a daddy’s girl,
And everything that has been said,
Or not said,
And done,
Or not done
Would be forgiven.

All
Would be forgiven,
But love doesn’t work that way.
It breaks you.
It makes you the happiest you could be,
And the craziest,
And most depressed.

But people still long for it,
Like the deepest yearning that can’t be satisfied.

I still yearn for it.
To be loved,
And forgiven.
Unconditionally.

I just want to be the blog someone loves so much that they log on just to scroll through my poems for hours. Whether they’ve read them once or twice, or more. I want to be someone’s blog obsession.

I don’t write about bodies clashing together.

It all seems utterly cliché.

And when words are put to such a beautiful, sinful act

it seems to diminish the attraction.

For what you do between the sheets, behind closed doors

are your memories alone.

So I do not partake in this type of PDA

for whether because I am secretive,

or my words put the emotions to shame,

I choose not to distinguish

between the two.

I tried

to stop this feeling

I really did.

Today I had an epiphany.

Of how we trace black lines of paint

with the ends of a 1 point brush,

smearing the lines that have become too thick.

When all this time,

we could have used the pointed end. 

I’ve tried it so many ways.

With processed honey from a bottle,

or my great grandfather’s honey from his hives,

or with sugar, and milk,

or cream.

I’ve tried different flavors,

green,

black,

sweet,

strawberry and passion fruit,

and peach with mango,

but it all just tastes the same.

Like leaves into water.

I’d much rather sip on my coffee than piping hot tea.

I’m a coffee person indeed.

But you see,

We ran out, and all I’m left with

is tea.

So here I cradle my mug, filled with tainted water.

Contemplating what it means

to be a coffee person.