Poems...

Beautiful when she cries

He called yesterday,
he texted too.
It sent me into shambles
through and through. 

I spent the day,
in bed,
 like I always do
when the tornado comes through.
I'm scared,
but I won't let that show,
because no one can know what he did to me,
no one can know how utterly broken I was.
Because I picked myself up,
I dusted myself off,
every single blow that was thrown
I fixed myself up. 

And when I got the courage to leave,
I did.
And I left for good,
with threats in my back,
and fear in my bones.
But I had a life again,
I was better,
and then he started all up again,
and I knew,
I knew I had to drop everything
because he wouldn't leave me alone if
I was happy. 

He used to say I was only beautiful
when I cried.
And as I layed in bed,
my phone ringing,
that's all I could think. 

Does everyone think the same
and just lie to me in the end?
Am I only truely beautiful when I cry? 

He called again, 
texted too. 
He won't give up, 
he never really does.
When I am happy, 
he comes tumbling back in my life, 
and he destroys everything that I have ever know, 
he would do whatever it took to get me back, 
even if it meant destroying the people in it. 
He always said I was only beautiful when I cried, afterall. 

But no one can know, 
that I am scared, 
that I am sad, 
that fear tingles through me even at the mention of his name. 

I thought I loved him. 
I thought he loved me too. 

But too be honest, 
I don't think I ever knew what love is, 
I don't think I know what love is. 
I'm scared to open up to another
because of him. 

Because he called, 
he texted too. 
I didn't answer, 
but blocked him again. 
But he called again, 
and texted too. 
from a different number. 
He told me he knew what I've been up to, 
He saw I wasn't single. 
And in one swift text, 
said I was only beautiful when I cried. 
And who could love a person
whose tears were already dried up. 
who didn't know how to shed anymore. 

He acts like we are best friends, 
asked if he could show me his apartment, 
the one he shares with a roommate. 
Does he know what he's like? 

I spent the day,
in bed,
like I always do
when the tornado comes through.
I'm scared,
but I won't let that show,
because no one can know what he did to me,
no one can know how utterly broken I was.
Because I picked myself up,
I dusted myself off,
every single blow that was thrown
I fixed myself up. 

I am stronger then I know, 
and it takes me a while, 
to get back to where I was, 
to get back to strong. 
but I will, I always do. 
And I always do it alone, 
because who could accept a girl, 
who is only beautiful when she cries?