Don’t start a relationship because an ex told you that you can’t.
I remember I wasn’t the easiest to deal with, and that you rivaled that position made us the single pieces on chess board we are today.
That it seemed much, what I required, but to me was only simple courtesy, I now understand that you were incapable and I wasn’t understanding.
I never took relationship advice from friends,
hence I’d be in relationships for years because I was too hard of hearing to try and not be in love when I didn’t even love to begin with.
Get it? I still don’t either.
I do get that I lied to you about what I felt every time I sucked on lips that weren’t yours and still felt the same.
I don’t know why they call them lovers when obviously we were just a one night stand that lasted way too long.
No I’m not blaming you, I’m not a five-year old, but I am annoyed that you communicate endlessly and recklessly ingratiating yourself into my life because you’re blind to ‘obviouslys’.
I don’t hate you, nor am I avoiding you, but we were never friends and f*cking you for as long as I did never changed that. Sorry, not sorry.
I exist with or without your calls, texts and assumptions of me.
You ask a question and I answer that creates a problem;
I don’t answer that also spurs problems galore.
I don’t think you know what you want, but I am definite about what I want.
I want to be.
Not answering to a soul. Not a requirement because you feel irked or hurt.
I’m not a bitch or nonchalant. Or maybe I am, IT IS NOT AN INSULT.
You wish me the best only when it involves you, and I understand that just like how a child doesn’t understand duality, your selflessness presents itself in inclusive forms.
You are necessary. Included. Important. Be to yourself what you require of me.
Find out how you truly are and don’t mistake your k’s for not wanting to talk.
Never assume about yourself what you always presumed about me.
I’m not throwing shade. I hate the dark for those reasons, but I am obviously the darkest night. How much more personal can this essay get? What else could this poem say?
I think my writing hates me and I think karma has fated me to be museless and restless.
A forgetful breath left from chest to float endlessly joining the plain atmosphere of life.
I see you.
I also know me and what I need and right about now, how I am and choose to be suits me.
I will forever remember this past of my life, not with anger or hurt or bated breath,
but with a third eye finally understanding that needing a warm body just because
one is present even when it doesn’t fit properly
I was in the wrong, but I’ve finally sought forgiveness for me.
Five down, forty-seven to go…