PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I try my best to make you feel special, you know.

There is only so much I can give in between

the poems, the scavenger hunts, the hidden notes, the repetitive whispers.

And trust me, boy, it breaks my heart that I can't give you

everything in this world, because if I would I could.



You hurt me with your scrolled retaliation,

the messages we post to the millions of blank screens,

hoping to fill them, hoping to make someone see

pain.

I see it, boy.

And I see the blame.

But I will forgive you for putting that on me,

I will take it like a good shot,

hey, I know what it means to write something fucked up in hopes

someone will be as fucked up as yourself.

Yes, here I am.

You win.

I'm cold.



Yes, I love you.

But it was in desperation that I lent the words you needed to hear.

I am too afraid to ask myself for the truth anymore,

you know I don't like making concrete decisions.



He Was.  As you can read, if you are.

Will you search the purple for him?

You don't have to look that hard.

He is in many places.



Look, don't read this.  Forgive me for this

as I forgave you.  Go write about how you don't love me

somewhere where I can't see it,

somewhere where my heart doesn't break for it.

You have changed me.

I am afraid of what you think, I am analyzing everyone of my actions,

I am not comfortable relaxing around you anymore.

And I am sad.

When I start to melt to the past, I know my love isn't strong enough.

And god, the heat is roasting me,

I feel like crying, I feel like writing in my journal a sweet confession of

how things have never changed for me since the day it happened.

No.

No.

Not now.

Not when I have already said my sweet goodnights to you.

NOT NOW! NOT NOW! I CANNOT GO THROUGH A NIGHT ALONE AGAIN!

NOT NOW! ROBERT! ROBERT! ROBERT!

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.