deepundergroundpoetry.com
Think About You
I like to read poems by a poet.
A girl that I don't know--
Her sadness, troubles, heartbreaks, complaints, mistakes and unfortunately, her woes.
I like to read these poems.
And I like to pretend, that's it you--
You gone and long, since forgotten ex-girlfriend.
I like to pretend that it's you on the other end.
And I'm reading your words and I like to pretend.
That since you left me, you've been miserable ever since.
Since I broke you heart and you (in turn) crushed my soul.
With lies and broken promises-- With mental disorders and false memories forgotten.
I think about you when I read these poems.
Even though it might not seem right.
I think about you when I read this sadness.
And it makes me smile out of spite--
Spite for you and your twisted games, your lying lips and the broken promises you never made.
I think about you as I read about heartbreak.
Even though it might not be you, it puts a smile on my face.
Cause I imagine it is-- And these two years you've been gone, you've been miserable without me.
Maybe this is wrong of me, that I get joy from another's pain.
But when it makes me think about you, you deserve it all the same.
Maybe this is wrong of me?
Maybe I am a twisted fiend?
But I don't care-- Because it's not to real writer of these words.
These sad, broken stories and poems that I doth read.
Deep in my heart, I know she is not you.
But I can't help but pretend all the same.
Pretending helps write our story, the story that I stole and made my own.
Pretending helps me get up and deal with the pain you left me in, imagining you waking up alone.
Breaking your heart and going insane.
It makes me smile, but can I really be blamed?
After the year and three months you used me, and made me forget how to trust?
Chased me out of school and made me (for a time) afraid to actually love.
I will write the truth eventually, and it's going to sting.
About how you choosed me, used me, abused me and left me with the blame.
But until that time arises, I'll just sit and smile.
As I read an anonymous poet's poems and for a moment, a second, a minute--
Just for a little while, I'll pretend--
As I read about her troubles, sadness, pains, and woes.
I'll pretend that I know that face and name behind those words.
I'll pretend that her pouring her heart to the world indirectly gives you pain.
I smile and I'll laugh, gobbling up those words as if the misery is just the sweetest of any sin.
And I'll pretend that it's not a nobody but it's somebody that I knew.
A somebody who broke my sanity down, and snapped my pretty red heart in two.
I'll pretend and I will smile.
Because in the midst of my pretending, I'll stop and a sick twist grin with carved across my lips.
Because that misery & heartbreak reminds me of what you put me through.
And deep in my mind and heart, I really truely hope that I did the same thing to you.
I like to read poems by a poet.
A girl that I don't know--
Her sadness, troubles, heartbreaks, complaints, mistakes and unfortunately, her woes.
I like to read these poems.
And I like to pretend, that's it you--
You gone and long, since forgotten ex-girlfriend. . .
And I get joy from this twisted fantasy that I've contrived with my mind.
This fictional tale that grows everytime another poem is published--
More sadness, more misery, more heartbreak, more woe.
From an unknown writer that I pretend to have known.
Maybe I am the wrong one?
I do not know.
All I know is these words make me feel the same way you made me feel.
And I hope for you, that feeling is presently real.
These poems make me, in spite and anger think about you.
And I hope if you're writing them, or if feel this way--
It's cause you're thinking about me too.
A girl that I don't know--
Her sadness, troubles, heartbreaks, complaints, mistakes and unfortunately, her woes.
I like to read these poems.
And I like to pretend, that's it you--
You gone and long, since forgotten ex-girlfriend.
I like to pretend that it's you on the other end.
And I'm reading your words and I like to pretend.
That since you left me, you've been miserable ever since.
Since I broke you heart and you (in turn) crushed my soul.
With lies and broken promises-- With mental disorders and false memories forgotten.
I think about you when I read these poems.
Even though it might not seem right.
I think about you when I read this sadness.
And it makes me smile out of spite--
Spite for you and your twisted games, your lying lips and the broken promises you never made.
I think about you as I read about heartbreak.
Even though it might not be you, it puts a smile on my face.
Cause I imagine it is-- And these two years you've been gone, you've been miserable without me.
Maybe this is wrong of me, that I get joy from another's pain.
But when it makes me think about you, you deserve it all the same.
Maybe this is wrong of me?
Maybe I am a twisted fiend?
But I don't care-- Because it's not to real writer of these words.
These sad, broken stories and poems that I doth read.
Deep in my heart, I know she is not you.
But I can't help but pretend all the same.
Pretending helps write our story, the story that I stole and made my own.
Pretending helps me get up and deal with the pain you left me in, imagining you waking up alone.
Breaking your heart and going insane.
It makes me smile, but can I really be blamed?
After the year and three months you used me, and made me forget how to trust?
Chased me out of school and made me (for a time) afraid to actually love.
I will write the truth eventually, and it's going to sting.
About how you choosed me, used me, abused me and left me with the blame.
But until that time arises, I'll just sit and smile.
As I read an anonymous poet's poems and for a moment, a second, a minute--
Just for a little while, I'll pretend--
As I read about her troubles, sadness, pains, and woes.
I'll pretend that I know that face and name behind those words.
I'll pretend that her pouring her heart to the world indirectly gives you pain.
I smile and I'll laugh, gobbling up those words as if the misery is just the sweetest of any sin.
And I'll pretend that it's not a nobody but it's somebody that I knew.
A somebody who broke my sanity down, and snapped my pretty red heart in two.
I'll pretend and I will smile.
Because in the midst of my pretending, I'll stop and a sick twist grin with carved across my lips.
Because that misery & heartbreak reminds me of what you put me through.
And deep in my mind and heart, I really truely hope that I did the same thing to you.
I like to read poems by a poet.
A girl that I don't know--
Her sadness, troubles, heartbreaks, complaints, mistakes and unfortunately, her woes.
I like to read these poems.
And I like to pretend, that's it you--
You gone and long, since forgotten ex-girlfriend. . .
And I get joy from this twisted fantasy that I've contrived with my mind.
This fictional tale that grows everytime another poem is published--
More sadness, more misery, more heartbreak, more woe.
From an unknown writer that I pretend to have known.
Maybe I am the wrong one?
I do not know.
All I know is these words make me feel the same way you made me feel.
And I hope for you, that feeling is presently real.
These poems make me, in spite and anger think about you.
And I hope if you're writing them, or if feel this way--
It's cause you're thinking about me too.
Published 20th Feb 2014
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