this is the first poem ever written about me
A MESS OF WORDS THAT RHYME FOR A GIRL.
I can't say sorry to those who can't hear.
But your ears are fine. You're a great listener, and that's really dangerous.
You can hear, and have heard, and have never said a word. You heard whispers, and then the whisper found you. It makes me sick that when filthy lips and a blasphemous tongue pressed into your mouth you knew. Especially after listening to those things tear apart the last six months he worked so hard to hold together. I replaced your blessing with a curse, and I think I pulled you into this chasm of darkness where there's no up or down. Where it's so loud without sound.
We can't tell if we're alive so we pray for rebirth.
I chose to jump into the dark. You were staring over the edge and saw me trying to climb back up. I told you I was letting go. It's hard to remember, but I think as I fell I grabbed your hand. I cut my veins and let my life bleed into yours. But I didn't realize you were already covered in blood. From me, him, now your friends, and what's already dried from your parents love.
I knew. And I know the pain. And I know the type of conversation you craved. Scared and alone, you stared at your red hands trying to help stop the flow, and I sat in silence.
They say the bigger things are the harder they fall, so it makes sense to say the bigger the heart the bigger the break. The longer the ache. The stronger the hate.
Why don't you hate me?
Your love extends across the globe, the way God's should. The amount of love you are capable of is hard to comprehend, but it scares me, because people in my life like that have a trend. It's always their decision, but there's always little cracks in the glass before they shatter their heart. All the people I've met with hearts that big, are now a piece of string that cuts into my left wrist.
I was a little crack once, it's the worst thing in the world. The last thing I want is to be another.
On my computer I found some files that I'd forgotten. I scrolled to the bottom and started from the beginning. And I read, and read, and reread until I saw the sun. It scared me. I read my thoughts on a page I didn't write. Like a movie about me, except in third person. And for once in the last year I wasn't the main character. It was beautiful, and I cried. Tears of regret and of guilt and of sorrow rolled down my cheeks. My hands started to shake as I realized I'd again broken another promise to myself.
'Don't ever abandon a friend, nothing is more important than a friend with a need.'
So that makes two. I'm lucky this time, because you're still breathing.
Please, keep breathing, and keep being you. Because from what I've read you've got life more figured out than me.
We both have hated on just how ignorant people could be. I couldn't be more sorry for being so ignorant. I'm so sorry for the pain, the frustration, and for being a shitty friend. But my dad's voice rings in my head,
"actions speak louder than words."
I'm sorry I am a friend. Maybe someday i'll be better than that, as for now i need to focus on being a better person.
I spent years doing and hating what you do for me. I abuse you. The same way they abused me. Dumping the garbage from their lives into my mind's sea. Today you're as kind as the first time we spoke.
You're becoming what you should never have been because I damned you, but what is damned without sin?
I would've died if your heart broke.
I can't say sorry to those who can't hear.
But your ears are fine. You're a great listener, and that's really dangerous.
You can hear, and have heard, and have never said a word. You heard whispers, and then the whisper found you. It makes me sick that when filthy lips and a blasphemous tongue pressed into your mouth you knew. Especially after listening to those things tear apart the last six months he worked so hard to hold together. I replaced your blessing with a curse, and I think I pulled you into this chasm of darkness where there's no up or down. Where it's so loud without sound.
We can't tell if we're alive so we pray for rebirth.
I chose to jump into the dark. You were staring over the edge and saw me trying to climb back up. I told you I was letting go. It's hard to remember, but I think as I fell I grabbed your hand. I cut my veins and let my life bleed into yours. But I didn't realize you were already covered in blood. From me, him, now your friends, and what's already dried from your parents love.
I knew. And I know the pain. And I know the type of conversation you craved. Scared and alone, you stared at your red hands trying to help stop the flow, and I sat in silence.
They say the bigger things are the harder they fall, so it makes sense to say the bigger the heart the bigger the break. The longer the ache. The stronger the hate.
Why don't you hate me?
Your love extends across the globe, the way God's should. The amount of love you are capable of is hard to comprehend, but it scares me, because people in my life like that have a trend. It's always their decision, but there's always little cracks in the glass before they shatter their heart. All the people I've met with hearts that big, are now a piece of string that cuts into my left wrist.
I was a little crack once, it's the worst thing in the world. The last thing I want is to be another.
On my computer I found some files that I'd forgotten. I scrolled to the bottom and started from the beginning. And I read, and read, and reread until I saw the sun. It scared me. I read my thoughts on a page I didn't write. Like a movie about me, except in third person. And for once in the last year I wasn't the main character. It was beautiful, and I cried. Tears of regret and of guilt and of sorrow rolled down my cheeks. My hands started to shake as I realized I'd again broken another promise to myself.
'Don't ever abandon a friend, nothing is more important than a friend with a need.'
So that makes two. I'm lucky this time, because you're still breathing.
Please, keep breathing, and keep being you. Because from what I've read you've got life more figured out than me.
We both have hated on just how ignorant people could be. I couldn't be more sorry for being so ignorant. I'm so sorry for the pain, the frustration, and for being a shitty friend. But my dad's voice rings in my head,
"actions speak louder than words."
I'm sorry I am a friend. Maybe someday i'll be better than that, as for now i need to focus on being a better person.
I spent years doing and hating what you do for me. I abuse you. The same way they abused me. Dumping the garbage from their lives into my mind's sea. Today you're as kind as the first time we spoke.
You're becoming what you should never have been because I damned you, but what is damned without sin?
I would've died if your heart broke.
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