TITLES
Never did I mean to be
problematic, dramatic,
jealous, heinous,
loud while you doubt,
and all the things you paint me to be—
when I just want to love
all your unmended wounds
and shiny trophies.
Never did I mean to be
controlling when comfortable,
too sensitive when unstable,
too silly to be told not to act like that,
and too smart in tensed chitchats—
when I just want to love
all your sleepless nights
while we struggle or laugh.
Now it rains under my blanket
when all I ever wanted
is to hear your voice
but I became the noise—
you know I don't know how to act right,
afraid of what you might hypothesize.
I became the villain
in your nightmares
when we used to dream
about sitting on a bench,
in front of a lake, together.
I became the stench
of your restlessness
when we used to inhale
each other's scents from
miles away.
But I became some kind of a tyrant
when I was supposed to be a poet—
I was trying, hopeful, and compliant
but that's just how you painted me to be.
YOU ARE READING
PETALS & THORNS
PoetryA collection of self-written poetry that summarizes the writer's month.
