loufocalovegood22
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Felt like I needed to share even though I'm not active at all anymore...
Here's my new poem, I haven't written one in like 4 months so I really felt like I needed. Anyways, here goes nothing.
"How are you?"
I've always avoided this question.
I've always written poems as if I was talking to someone.
And that someone is me.
And she wants to speak up today.
She wants to answer 16 years of "how are you?"
How do I feel...
It may not be enough, but for what I know, I feel like I want to scream my trauma.
When I picture it in my head, it's all dark and black, it crawls on your skin, it takes you, chokes you and kills you softly over a sad song, leaving bruises at night.
Then you remember the other side. You remember the smiles, the beach, the old Polaroids, the history repeating itself.
But look deep inside thos memories and you'll see how hurt she was back then.
Then it's pitch black again. You vaguely see some scars and think "what the hell am I doing?!" You see some scribbled books and realize it's your own writing, you see some blood on the bathroom floor and think about the hours you wasted, crying.
You then observe your countless tries at trying to get better, sometimes... Sometimes you see some joy.
An ice cream.
A laugh.
A hug.
But you reckon it's all fake.
Because you've been deceived too many times.
I...have been deceived too many times.
I know how much a summer can fuck u up.
But I know I not alone in this.
This is my closure.
