remind me again
that poetry is what makes me alive
remind me
of unwritten heartaches
and unbottled tears
remind me
of that unrequited love;
of that night i profess
of missing him so much
and how much it hurt
that he didn't love me back
remind me
to listen to the whispers and screams of the rain
to pause for a little and see its beauty
when it touches the ground and wash away my misery
when it knocks on my window to sing lullabies to me
remind me
of the books untouched and unread in a corner
of people in pages that breathe truth and pain and love
of the songs i never listened to anymore
because they bring forth a garden of nostalgia
and most importantly
(please never forget this)
remind me
that i deserve better
than having my feelings invalidated
because i have moved on from the past
and now love a man who is tied to another
remind me
that i deserve to be loved in return
even when it is from man twice as old as me
not because i'm reckless and wild
but because i crave it:
the affection
the touch
the attention
but really, i just want his love too.
so remind me again
to not care of your hypercritical judgments and malevolent satire
because i'm tired of them
and i'm better off drowning in an ocean
being reckless and wild and honest
than do nothing and be terrified of living.
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YOU ARE READING
Dark and Beautiful
PoetrySometimes my thoughts and hand bleed so much poetry I can barely stop them from leaking onto the paper. But sometimes, too, my heart bleeds too much blood that I couldn't write poetry anymore.
