This book is a story I've read before, I've read it off the palms of others, others and you. I don't wish I could erase it, but I dislike that it's not true.
Expectations, purely love and admiration, yet nothing is reciprocated. Why me, why am I the one to suffer in the hands of stupid infidelity?
Love letters as a playlist, how stupid can I be to enable this part of me, when I know what's to come? Careless considerations of what could be, you smiled and I smiled back, you liked my poetry.
It felt like a kiss when you ignored what was right next to you, a kiss of poisonous herbs. I wish I could take it back, love your best friend, at least it would've affected you better.
She's not my type, but attention is, I need you to look in my eyes and say you need me. Say you need me to be what you want, be who you want me to be. I can't stop it, constantly in pain. Is pain not a reason to quit?
Why can't I look at someone new, and why can't they look at me too? I'll cry not once but for every time I see you from this point on, endlessly cruel. I wanted you.
I know I never take the big step, rejection is my mess, but I wouldn't want to risk you. I didn't know then, but now I do. Even as I know, I still needed you. I still need you, no story can change it. I want to rewrite my role but it's, pointless.
Accountability towards all my sophistries, yet I can't seem to change what I look like or how I react. Why can't I focus on other priorities? You were nothing but a little butterfly on the sidewalk, but I picked you up and nurtured you knowing the end would be you leaving me, to explore the other beauties.
I've read this story, you can't change you either. But I wish I knew how to rewrite stories, so that I could have you. Acerbic love, I should know better.
But your kiss, it won't wash away when it's left all these scars. I can't even speak, without the thorns in my teeth scratching my lips. Stupidity- I wasn't thinking, not as benign as it seems. Broke the rules of the dreams, by trying to pretend that I could control every aspect. There's a reason that clocks in a dream don't exist, time won't make space when it's not meant to be. Imagination, purely imagination.
There was always a bigger story to the story but none of them could relieve my sufferance. Why couldn't I still enjoy it while it lasted, why'd it need to end in pain? I swear I won't sin anymore, just let me listen to bitter words and touch gravel skin.
I would rather suffer with, than without her. She's what I want, and I miss, and I despise, and I kissed, and I cried, and I thought that it was real when it's not, darkest story and the moonlight's cast away by the clouds once again. Even moonlight was good enough, I wish it stayed till the end. Inconstant love, I know, it wasn't to be and it's not to be and it won't ever be.
The book's better not ripped because I'll reminisce but I guess that keeping it would stir up feelings, stories and stories I constantly know aren't good to me but why do I still not ignore them? They won't apologise but neither will you, I need not to stay close to your heart.
Our relation wasn't for this universe, so I'll leave you as you were and I'll pick gravel off the floor to collect it, to recollect you.
© Sincerely, ♡ - March 2023
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My Guts Create A Tapestry - Poetry
PoetryThis poetry is strictly copyright, it's all written by me. These poems tend to be written sweetly so you could be reading the most gorey poem and it'd be like it's romantacised. I don't try to romantacise them, it's the way I write. You'll possibly...
