Good time girl.
I was your good time girl. The girl you told your fantasies too, and the things that could ruin you. You trusted me, knowing I was stuck on you. That I would not leave if hurt by you, because I loved you.
Love...but love is a thing of weight, measured by the tons. I held it up for so long and when I started to unravel from my toes up, I hid it. In hopes that maybe you'd notice.
You.
You were more concerned with replacing me. Saying you just didn't want to hurt me but, Love, your denial of me is what stung the very core of me into action, to which, caused you to lose me.
I was nothing more than a good time girl for you, a glorified distraction that you took for granted. Because, love, don't you remember our drive where you said, "You know I can't give my heart to you, right?", to which I replied, "I know, but I want to be what you need, and if a distraction is just that, that's what I'll be."
Blinding, recklessly letting you suffocate me with feelings of being incomplete because I believe one should love selflessly.
Everyday, not realizing my worth was decreasing, holding on to, "working towards a dating relationship.", When in reality you'd never actually purse that...until it was too late.
Until I was pushed to purse something that I could not understand. Something that holds more value to me now, than your few minutes of holding me after I demonstrate that I'd do more for you than you would for me. That one time you held me while I cried couldn't stand out among the times that you said you wanted me, and then started dating someone new almost immediately.
I am not a good time girl.
I am a forever girl.
A come home to me cooking you something, not because I'm a women but because you've had a long day and I love you, kind of girl.
You will never fully understand that, but that's okay. I've moved on. No longer needing your praise or approval of how I wear my hair or how confidence is sexy and I should just have it. I am stronger because I stopped taking your abuse, and I will continue to flourish, without you.
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Poems and other stuff
PoesíaPoems show the deepest parts of your brain that you lock away during normal conversations. Sometimes minds are messy. Sometimes messes are genius in disguise. Read to catch a glimpse of my messy mind.