On this starlit night I’m supposed to feel utterly blissful
but she drains away all of that and replaces it with pain that can be felt coursing through my body that it reduces me to nothing.

Part I - Detest
Another promise to never leave.
Yet it’s broken again. Just like I predicted. And she said this time it’s going to be different. That’s what they all say.
Even though she’s still here, she’s not here.
She left.
Part II - Intense Emotion/Gratefulness
I miss her and I regret losing her. Cause she’s the most beautiful person I’ve ever known on the inside and out and I consider myself lucky to have had her in my life.
I’ve loved her, I love her and I’ll always love her. No matter who you’re with, where you go, what you do. You’ll always be special to me and have the most profound place in my heart. Always.
I miss you.
You.

The great paradox:
Why do the people who we love the most hurt us the most ?

Consciously/Unconsciously she hurts me. Sometimes I think she hurts me in deliberation just to make me let go of her.
I will. Stop loving her. Maybe I won’t. But I will let go. I Eventually. I wish she didn’t deal with things the way she does? It’s just reminds of past scars and makes me more broken than I already am.
Why does she have to be so pretentious with me ? Why does she treat me like I’m so **** special today and treat me like a complete stranger the next couple of days ?
I’m sorry I didn’t mean to fall in love with you but I just did. Because that’s just me. I fall in love with people who I’m familiar with and who show me affection. You don’t have to crucify me for it. I’m sorry. I’ll get through this also just like every other calamity. Alone.

She hurts me.

I hope one day you/I find someone
who makes wildflowers and tulips grow
in the saddest parts of you/me.

He/she puts together temporarily,
the broken/disntegrated parts of my plasticine self
with band aids and masking tape.

By the time I’ve consumated
poetry about you,
all that is left on paper is
dappled/blotted
nonsensical words
with the afterglow
of my tears
fervently
held back.

Even though I’m used to
the self support and the solitariness and just being there
for my fond ones,
Every once in awhile I just wish there was
someone
who would hold tight my hand during the
frequently screaming tempest.
When I’ve reached my
breaking point/conjuncture
and convulse into tears.
Someone who would
encompass me momentarily,
whisper sweet serenades saying,
“Everything is going to be alright, I’ll sing you a lullaby.”