Hurt people, hurt people.
When I realized I couldn't have him,
I jumped from man to man,
not for love, not even for lust—
just to prove something.
To him.
To myself.
I wanted to feel anything
but unwanted.
So I let hands trace my skin
like I meant something,
even when I knew I didn't.
I used them,
but worse—
I let them use me.
I called it distraction,
but it was destruction,
dressing my wounds with strangers
who only left me with more.
I thought maybe if he saw me move on,
he'd regret leaving.
I thought maybe if I felt something,
even for a second,
it would be better than feeling
empty.
I did things I'm not proud of,
things I can't take back.
And all of it—
every reckless choice,
every desperate attempt
to feel wanted again—
was for a boy.
A boy that didn't even want me
to begin with.
—MistakenGenius
YOU ARE READING
Surviving Heartbreak
PoesiaA lover girl who got her heart broken one too many times and now ended up writing poetry about it
