PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

He was simple, plain as some people would say, but to me he was far from plain. Every time I looked at him something inside of me would light up, something that was dead when he wasn’t around. It was like he was a match and I was a candle. It was easy for him to make me happy, to make me smile. So easy in fact, that he didn’t even have to do anything. Before I met him I never knew what it as like to look at someone and smile for no reason.



I guess you could say that I loved him. Well, I was as close to being in love with him as you could get to a person without actually being in love with them. However, I knew that nothing could ever happen between us, that nothing would ever happen between us. At first it didn’t really bother me. I was used to that kind of shit happening. Either I couldn’t be with the person, or he wouldn’t be with me. But the more I got to know him, the more in love I fell.



He was an asshole. People often told me that I was too good for him, and to this day I feel that he was too good for me, he is still to good for me. All he wanted me for was sex. That’s it, plain and simple. He would call me every night and we would talk. Every word that was uttered from his lips made me smile. He made me happy. Well, he made me as happy as Juliet could be without Romeo.



Every time someone would tell me that he didn’t deserve me, that I was too good for him, that he was a dick head who only wanted sex, it would only push me down into a black hole. The very same hole that he was slowly pulling me out of. I was finally able to see light, I was finally almost at the top, and it seemed as if everyone else just wanted to push me back down.



I would often cry. Shedding tears over him was probably one of the most pathetic things I ever did. But I couldn’t stop it, still I can’t stop it. I still find myself crying myself to sleep at night over him. Yes, even though it’s faded some, I do still love him.



And it does hurt. I would try to be strong, I would try to keep myself together, but at the end of the night when I was away from the eyes of the rest of the world I would break. Breaking is something that I’ve grown used to over the years.



But you can only break so many times before you’re nothing. And I think I’m at the point where there is nothing left to break. Now, I’m even more useless and alone then I ever was before. I’m a broken girl, with a broken spirit. And maybe someday somebody will come along and put me back together. I won’t hold that in my hopes though, that’s how I broke in the first place. Hope is just a waste. All it does is build you up and when it’s let down, you crumble and crash to the ground before anyone even has the chance to catch you.