deepundergroundpoetry.com

She doesn't want me to wish her

Itís not because I donít miss herÖ

Iím a jerk when Iím pissed. I lie to everyone but she knows that.
It was crazy enough for me to open up, let alone have someone feel the same pain I felt. Literally.
Pain, youíd never let that Ďsomeoneí even know about because your heart would fall out of your chest before words from your mouth.
Unbearably so, pushing away is the easiest thing to do.
She would know.

Days, like toxic clouds, drift slow and listless in her absence.
Decaying the world your mind built to make reality a little more tolerable.
The bunny dies in this story. Cupid needs AB- transfusion, stat.
The arrow is rusted and withering. Love is gangrene.
It eats away until you are consumed by it, becomes what you used to be.
Then one day, you donít recognize yourself and you think a check up is in order.
But the doctors canít figure out why she wonít see you.
ďLove isnít treatable. Iím sorry, youíre going to die.Ē

Gotta love the irony, the thing that makes you want to live can kill you at any time, any place, any how.
Thereís nothing you can do about it.
Canít even force a tear for the wrong reasons, let alone right.
Sheíd be furious if I said, ďshe was with the wrong guy,Ē again.
Sheíd get mad and tell me that Iím with the wrong girl, just to spite me.
Revenge is love, too.
I could list a million reasons and they would all mean more to her than they do to me.
Words may never be strong enough to pierce me. Yet, she is.
She loves to talk about it. I canít find words.
I babble like a retard. Sheíd never know.

Living is hell. Breathing is pain.
Every waking hour draws more suffering from this.
This, self loathing solitude cum apathy, is beginning to rot on my skin.
I reek of hate and misery. The kind that doesnít like company.
This is Ďthe great escapeí psychiatrists warn their patients about when they vacuum their wallets.
This is my home, with picture frames of my past and present hanging on the cardboard walls.
No wind here to blow my mind. Just, dead calm.

Itís not because I donít miss her that I respect her decision.
Itís because she wanted it just like I want it every year.
I donít even know why I want it.
Probably not for the same reason as she does this time around.
I hope itís wonderful, though.
If there is anything in the world I want, itís for her to get everything she wants.
Sheís my everything. She forgets that, a lot.
She doesnít want me to wish her, but Iím a stubborn bastard and a coward.
I hope she has a beautiful day and an amazing year to look forward to.
I love her more than sheíll give me credit for.
Iím a dick, who always misses her and wants to kiss her every chance I get.
Happy birthday.
13
Written by 13
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 2 reading list entries 1
comments 1 reads 364
dizzzzzzy
Commenting Preference: 
The author encourages honest critique.

Latest Forum Discussions
POETRY
Today 1:42am by Ahavati
SPEAKEASY
Today 1:33am by Andiew
COMPETITIONS
Today 00:30am by Kinkpoet
SUGGESTIONS
5th December 2019 11:45pm by ThePoetcastProject
COMPETITIONS
5th December 2019 10:36pm by Miss_Sub
SPEAKEASY
5th December 2019 10:25pm by badmalthus