12/30 – national poetry month

Get the fuck out of my notebook
You can’t have my poetry anymore
No longer will you weave your way into the intricacies of my rhetoric
Like you weaved your way into the complexities of my soul
No longer will you aid me in combatting the obstacles that I face
No. That is not your purpose anymore.
That purpose lies in my words

I bleed my pain onto paper
I use my words to bandage the cuts in my soul
I use my pen to express the things that I am not brave enough to say
The things I was brave enough to say to you
And this was a confidence you took for granted
You never disclosed my information
But you took the only person I could fully vent to when you left
Now all I have is my notebook

You can’t have my poetry anymore
No more love poems will be written about you
You can’t have my foundation
You can’t have my core
You can’t have my craft
You cannot take my words from me

You’ve already managed to snatch away my hope
I no longer believe in fate when it comes to matters of the heart
Soul mates are bullshit
Adam’s missing rib was a lie
Corey and Topanga were a tv couple that will never manifest in real life
It’s all fake
You managed to remove my optimism and it has been replaced with your inherent pessimism

And now you want my words?
You’ve infiltrated my thoughts
You’ve taken my ability to open up and trust another man
And now you want the only way I’ve been able to express myself since you left?

My wants, my needs, my desires for you, my feelings, my thoughts
All fell on deaf ears
so I took to my notebook to relay how I felt about my place, or the lack thereof, in your life
Yet somehow all of my poems have been about you

I thought I was just releasing my anguish onto these pages until I realized that I was writing these poems for you
I wanted you to see them
I wanted a reaction
Damn it give me a fucking reaction!

I want you to read my lines and feel what I feel
I want you to hurt like I hurt
I want you to love like I love
I need you to need me like I need you
I want something more than some well thought out fuck shit response to my feelings that lacks empathy
I want raw emotion. I want to know how you feel, not what you think

Fuck what you think about this mess we’ve gotten ourselves into
Fuck your analysis
Fuck your critiques
Fuck everything except what I want to know
Because it’s about time this became more about me and less about you

Do I not provoke you anymore?
Is that what it is? Is that the crux of this?
I do nothing for you anymore yet you do everything for me
These feelings are not mutual
These thoughts are not aligned

You can’t have my poetry anymore
I will not do anything else for you
You can’t have any part of me anymore especially my words.
You can’t have my optimism
You can’t have my thoughts
You can’t have my expression
You can’t have my poetry anymore

Now, get the fuck out of my notebook.


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