puddles and puddles of muddy poetry

I clung on to every word you spilled from your soft, sweet mouth
I cherished each and every syllable,
each and every vowel, every noun.
You proved me wrong in the end,
your words hit my chest like daggers running through my chest.
Your soft spoken words wounded my soul,
wounded the child in me, looking for mercy.


I hope when you mother asks about me,
blood rushes through your body,
filling you with remorse,
your mind playing the script we both created.
For I wish to not be a mistake;
rather everything you could've ever asked for,
that sadly could not work out.


you look at me and all you see is unfinished art;
but honey, art is art.
what is unfinished to you is a complete masterpiece to others.


your body needs some mending,
your soul needs some warmth,
your heart needs some gentle, loving care
you need me.
you let me in
you let me fix you.
I fixed you up,
i let you go,
and now you've gone away.
You left me here to care for myself.
You left me, but at least you're okay.


"I yell because I love you, sweetheart"
you repeat over and over while my wrist is engulfed in your fist.
You taught me love and abuse are the same thing.
Because of you, I've spent years looking for love in the form of hate.


You make me curious, sad soul.
Why are you so sad?
Why do you linger in my space?
I've given you every ounce, every radiance of my warmth as I possibly can,
Leave me be, sad soul.
The joy you seek is right in front of your ghostly figure,
yet, you moan and groan about the changes you do not make.
You sulk and cry, and drain me out.
You took parts of me I can never reclaim,
You took the part of me I left kept to myself,
why must you hurt me as well, sad soul?
What is wrong with you?


Stop lingering in my soul when I don't even cross your mind.


I couldn't possibly imagine what it would be like to have you again;
primarily being I never truly had you in the first place.
I've spent nights imagining what was never there,
I've been letting my imagination run wild with desire,
desires for you, or should I say,
the phantom I've created of you.
I yearn for the animosity you generously gave to
everyone
else
but
me.


Why must you reign over my body as if you are the ruler of my temple?
What makes you think you're allowed to control every aspect of my life,
when I've done all I can in order to rid myself of you, and your disgusting touch.
Why do you feel the need to grab me by my wrist and submerge my head under my mistakes,
they are mine to make.
you do not control me.
stop trying to control me.
Im begging you, please stop.


I was never afraid of the dark, for 19 years, I never feared what could be inside something I cannot see.
But, at 20, I found myself fucking petrified,
yearning for the soft, white cast the tiny light leaves,
I yearn for the warmth it gives off,
I yearn for the safety inside the light, inside the warmth.
I yearn for something other than the fucking ideas left in the dark.
The fucking tell-tale of my life, trying to grab me by the ankles and pull me in.


There will be a day my feet no longer slide into the worn-out shoes under my bed, getting ready for another day at work.
There will be a day my back does not lay on the itchy, staining grass on an unbearable summer's eve.
There will be a day my laugh no longer echoes in your room, but your mind instead.
When that day comes, know I am much happier, much more content.
When that day comes, know I am replaying all the mini adventures we took, climbing rocks too dangerous to climb on.
When that day comes, I did it because it was the only way out.
I did it for myself.