PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

My window is filled with regret

For taking so much time, each moment a precise measurement in my mind.

So much time--dedicated to love.

Putting so much hope in this one person, and getting  terribly disappointed,

And not understanding how my mother went through that rejection for so long, and is as strong as she is now.

And hurting--- wanting to know why he wasted  my time, if he knew he would do this.

Live like this, kill me like this.

Suck up all my generosity like this---use me because he knew I could love no one else like I loved him.

And now it’s like were strangers again, only he’s not chasing, and my heart is broken, and everything is a constant reminder of him.

So is there something named half-true love?

Is that what I came close to?

I admire my wanna-be mood ring, in the hopes that that’s not the best I’ll get.

That hopefully I can experience real, true, clichéd love.

But it’s every time the phone rings-- it’s every time I see that he’s online, but I know I have to ignore him, It’s every time I have to pretend we didn’t do all the things we did, and we didn’t hold each other like we were the only rope left on a steep mountain, and it’s the moving on that’s killing me.

It’s the not being his friend-- because I can’t be his friend, and the trying to find out how could he love me so much months ago, but not now?

I must have been his puppy-show.

So poor sensitive me, I must just try to forget I was ever in love with him, imagine it was just a dream.