Poetry ♻︎ Broken Hearts

You would think that I would be able to write again with a broken heart, but even poetry is non exist. Lately all I do is lie to myself that I'm okay. I keep lying. You keep leaving.
I keep saying the words I love you as if I am going to get a reply, but you and I both know that you won't say it back. So I'll just keep whispering the words "I love you."

      At least for another 9 months because to you I don't exist and to me you are only a memory I keep trying to relive and visit.


I still love you though. I still think you are perfect for me. I still picture a future with you and little kids of our own. I still convince myself that this pain is necessary because most say that the heart breaks with a beautiful kind of pain, but this time there is nothing beautiful about it. This time is the second.
And the second time hurts worse than the first.
The last kiss might actually be the last, and more time is needed in allowing the heart to heal.


& today is only the 3rd day that I haven't had you, that you haven't been mine. I haven't been able to hug or kiss you. We haven't talked and I think I am starting to go crazy. Every day I will randomly picture your smile and imagine your forehead kisses and this "beautiful" kind of pain is the ugliest pain there ever was and ever will be. What is beautiful about being second when everyone is screaming that I should be first? I tell myself second isn't that bad. Second is only one away from first. At least I wasn't third or fourth because that's when I would start to wonder, but I guess I have already started to wonder.

I guess I've already started to wonder if you're worth it because everyone keeps telling me you're not.

Falling in love is a choice

The truth is, we fall in love by choice. But I never wanted to Bryce. I never once told myself that we would have happened before the day I kissed you. I don't know why I kissed you, I don't know why I fell in love with you.


I can promise you that I never wanted to. I told myself to hate you. I told myself that once you mess up you can never change. I always would lie to you saying I had something, every time you asked me on a date. I don't know why I decided to say yes to one, but eventually I did. We went somewhere that wasn't fancy, someone called it ghetto. The truth is that night I realized I would miss you if you just decided to leave. I would have actually cared if you were to disappear off the face of this earth. I could feel myself starting to like you and I tried everything to convince myself those feelings weren't real. I didn't want to fall in love with you but I did. It wasn't by choice, and I can promise you that. I never wanted this Bryce.



I never wanted to fall in love. I really didn't. I wanted my life with your best friend. I wanted that to work out and I wanted that to be perfect. I wanted someone who didn't show me every day that he actually cared. I wanted someone who couldn't decide what he wanted day by day. I told myself I wanted a cowboy. I wanted someone who wanted to live in the middle of nowhere with cows and horses. I told myself that we needed to work out because the truth is I couldn't handle another heart break. I didn't want to feel ripped apart inside so I convinced myself I would have been happy. What's so bad about pigs and horses after all? I never wanted "Bryce and Emma" I wanted your name to be his. I don't know what made me change my mind. I remember our first date though. You were adorable and you kept touching me up and down. It made my whole body tense. I told myself I didn't like it, but after you stopped I realized I loved it. I wanted you to grab me and kiss me. I didn't care about him at that moment. I didn't want his arm around me, I wanted yours. I wanted you to look at me, tilt your head, and just smile.


I never wanted this,
     but it happened.

Dear Sweetheart

"Everyone doubts who they really love."

I keep wondering if this is right. Not because I wonder if he isn't right for me, but because I wonder if he will ever be able to love me again. I am starting to feel sad again. I am starting to worry again. I make up scenarios in my head wondering if this happened or maybe that.

I love you. Don't doubt that.

But I am sure you do. I kind of hope you do.
But because of you I can't write poetry anymore. I'm confused about whether I am happy or sad. You confuse me, and I'm starting to confuse myself.