I've never been much of a poet.
When I was younger,
I tried writing songs
But since none of you knew my name before tonight
We can see how well that went.
I've been writing poems for about a week now
And all I can say is this:
Whoever has the ability to easily rhyme the endings
Of every other line
DAMN.
Also,
I can't quite tell if all of my poems are starting to sound like the same one
Reworded over and over and over.
Like a record stuck on repeat
But I don't have much else to say.
They tell me to tap into the things that keep me up at night,
But the only thing is him.
And how could I fit every emotion he's ever caused me
Into one single poem.
Or how could I fit seven years worth of memories into one poem.
Because he's more than a couple lines.
He's the reason I like the genre of TV shows that I do.
He's the reason I don't trust guys who say they love me,
Even if it's been a year.
And maybe this poem started out as funny.
Maybe you were supposed to laugh and I wasn't going to bring him up
But I did,
And now I'm pissed.
