"i wouldve titled this with a clever play on your phone number but you dont have one. fuck you"
maybe i'm just clingy but i hate it when you dont talk to me for two days straight
i wrote a poem about you being toxic before
maybe i get addicted to toxic waste
do i die now? do i faint from the radiation?
your constant stench of restlessness is suffocating me
fuck you anywayand i've come to terms that i'm being way too over-dramatic
but ya got me feeling all fucked up
and i'm far from being in love with you
because no fucking homo bro!
but
i'm attached to you
and
it feels like sticking your hands together with super glue
stupid
nonsensical
brain whirring with thoughts like what the fuck why did you do this to yourselffeels one-sided i suppose
because i dont think you talk about me to your friends
i mean it's fine! i understand you!but i genuinely like talking to you
more of a hey i wanna talk to you!!
less of a aahh i have to talk to you cause i havent talked to you in a whilehalf of me is hoping you read this
half of me is hoping that you dontbecause i know you'll get sad and blame yourself and i hate seeing you sad
i hate seeing you
hate. despise. abhor.
but—fuck it—i'd still cross a thousand oceans just to help you button up your coat
YOU ARE READING
FLAWED MOTION (a writing collection)
Poesía"i suppose i love this life, in spite of my clenched fist." © xelena clarisse, 2015 highest: #104 in poetry