Late Night Talks

"You call me late at night, always drunk, saying you're sorry and telling me you love me and that it won’t happen again that you can change.. But that's just another one of your lies I've heard time and time again as I once more find myself up at dawn with you on the other line, since for some reason I just can't let you go no matter how many harsh words are exchanged or when you leave ghosting me for months on end. I stay where you left me like a dog waiting for its owner. You often distance me, blocking me out of your life, only to come back weeks later on your knees crying and pleading for my love, and I give it to you without a second thought no matter how many drunk calls, or late night smoking sessions turn into lingering touches and lust driven words. I let it happen because I love you, even though I know deep down you’ll never love me the same. I let it happen, let you use me for relief if only for a night even though I know you’ll tell me to forget about it once morning comes. Always once the sun peeks through my window you’ll leave without a word to be too ashamed to meet my gaze, ashamed of me of us.. I sigh knowing you’ll be back, and I'll wait for you as I always do."

The Sun & the Moon

“For you are the sun any more than I am the moon, I crave your warmth so greatly that to simply meet your gaze would be heaven sent. Thus I continue to peek through the clouds that I hide behind during the day hoping for a glimpse of your brightness. To have the honor of your light grazing my skin even if just for a moment. 

One can not exist without the other yet so many dread it when I appear. Is it because I'm less bright, less warm? Because I remind people of being alone in the darkness that is night? Is that why so many favor the sun over the moon.. 

Nevertheless if i didn’t exist therefore neither would you. So tell me why not the moon? Why am I not as important? I have a cause, I'm not useless, I serve my purpose well yet it goes unacknowledged. I try so hard to be loved and wanted by the people but all I get is silence because the people of the night are far far away in the land of wonders that is their minds.”

The man I used to love

“I miss the way I would jump into my fathers arms after he came home from work the way he held me with so much care and affection.. the love I could feel radiating from his arms.. now.. I’m twelve. I cry myself to sleep at night hugging a stuffed animal to try and mimic that same warmth I felt oh so many years ago.. seeking the same comfort I used to get from his embrace.. yet his hugs don’t feel the same anymore.. they feel suffocating…

  I remember the way he would tuck me into my bed and give my forehead a soft kiss. humming soft lullabies to help me sleep.. he doesn’t do that anymore.. 

I miss the man he once was.. the man I looked up to and could proudly call him my father..  the same man I used to call daddy and say I loved him to the moon and back has now become an angry man who smokes and drinks his worries away.. I miss my father.. the man I used to look up too.. the man I used to love”

Note: Another old poem from when i was an emo little shit of a 12yr so enjoy my fellow poem readers

u gay?

nah im a reptile

Love such a beautiful tragedy

“You’re like a rose, petals so soft and scent sweet yet I manage to miss the way your thorns wrap around me as I relish in your flawless beauty. Letting the honey coated lies take over my mind helping drown out the stinging pain your thorns leave behind, clawing at my skin like daggers I try and pull away frightened yet they only dig deeper till i decide, staying perfectly still, that it's better this way only able to see the red petals and the sweet smell of the roses yet, I can still feel the stinging pain of the thorns. I know they’re there. I can feel them.. I ask you why? Why do you hurt me in such ways? Yet you only draw me in deeper, fogging my senses with your lies.. Because I love you, is what you say to me.. And as naive as I am I once again stop to smell the roses.”

I like to make my pain pretty

TW: Sh, gore mention, in depth talk of blood and sh, please don't read my poetry if you struggle with these things or get triggered easily! Note: I made this when i was like 12 so sorry if there is any bad spelling and for how cringe it is i just wanted to finally post some of my work and decided to post an old one

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“Watching the metal drag across my skin leaving pretty red lines behind on my pale skin is an odd comforting feeling.. yet the guilt and shame after being clean for so long sets in soon after.. i find comfort in watching blood pour down my arm from those pretty red lines.. the bright red blood makes me forget about my problems like a drug.. till you come down form that high and find yourself sobbing on the bathroom floor the cuts under your sleeve stinging as the sickening realization that you’ve failed once again sinks in.. the shame and guilt you feel afterwards consumes you sometimes.. and makes you want to hide those marks on your body that you had thought were pretty not to long ago..”