PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I made myself out of the fabric of too many questions.

Sown together, irregular, cheap.

I cursed and toked and whined and smoked

because I felt like I had to change me.

And I did.

So successfully.

I was so sad, and so angry,

all I wanted was to forget,

all I wanted was to be noticed.

I siphoned off my past, and my heart that was too quiet,

because I loved someone with everything and then they walked away.



And here I sit today.

Edges rough, burned, smoking up a storm in the other room.

Each inhale is forgiveness.

Each exhale is directed towards you.

Baby I forgot the ways you shaped me.

I forgot why I looked at you and saw the moon.

I forgot why I did these things to myself.

But its too late to take them back.

And, now that I am the person I am,

I wouldn't even want to.



I was so confused, and in this mass uproar,

I hurt myself.

I had to know something more

than my swollen, pining heart.

So I dried it up, put it on the floor,

and got inside my car.

I cried for awhile then drove away,

hoping to come back someday.

But its too late for that.

The road was obliterated after I left.



And now I ask myself these questions from far away-

How does it feel to love yourself?

How does it feel to love someone else?