It's not that I don't love you.Its the sound I heard when I was 9 and my father slammed the front door so hard behind him I swore it shook the whole house.For years I watched my mother break her teeth on bottles of vodka.I felt the pieces of her heart shatter on the floor as he left.I think part of her died.I knew he took her heart when he walked out the door.Her chest is empty,just a shattered mess of cracked ribs and depression pills.
It's not that I don't love you.It's all the blood that filled my sink.It was the night I spent 12 hours in the emergency room.Just to see if I'd make it out alive,after the man I thought loved me told me I wasn't even his.Its the crying and the fluorescent lights,blurred out faces and squeaky sneakers.Shaky breaths and blood.So much blood.
It's not that I don't love you.Its the time I had to stay up 2 days straight with my best friend.As she cried over the phone walking to my house.Finding her passed out on the side of the road covered in her own puke.Over a boy who fucked a girl he drunkly met at a party.I swear she still has tear streaks tattooed on her cheeks.I think when you love someone,it never truly goes away.
It's not that I don't love you.It was the 1 1/2 months,my class had a substitute because our teacher was losing his mother and couldn't handle it.He just laid in bed.When he came back he was all smiles.But watching him closely you'd see his hands shake as he held his coffee mug closely.You could see something broken inside.And sometimes when things break,you can't fix them.You just can't.Nothing ever goes back to how it was.I passed that class with an A that year.I think his head wasn't on straight to actually care to grade our work.
It's not that I don't love you.It's that I do.
YOU ARE READING
The Words Of A Poet
PoetryGroup of poems combined together...not much to it,other than you'll have to read it for yourself. **Will be edited all the time**
