Book of corage

A collection of mostly short poems in regards to the dismay and bliss everyone faces through life and love.

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3. after a fight at 12 at night

[an incredibly selfish and sorry reaction, all feelings and no thought]

 

I want to talk to you

but you don't want to talk to me.

well, it's not like I know what to say to you,

To make you happy

Your words that spill on the screen, they can nearly kill me.

but you will never know that.

That's how I want it to be.

 

You don't really insult me.

But the irritation in your eyes gives me all the validation

That you're disappointed in me.

I'm not what you thought I was,

I'm weaker, childish

a sorry attention seeker

grasping towards the affection without the discretion

that you might have wished.

 

you expected much more, I can tell

am I still the girl you say you love so well? 

because when my eyes well up

feeling like they'll blow up

I look at your eyes, and no matter how hard you try

they're always saying 'grow up'

 

I think I know why,

you get annoyed when I say 'I love you' 

after a fight 

because maybe you don't want to be reminded 

of the very thing that leaves you binded 

to the one that makes you so ...

annoyed 

 

you're annoyed.

I'm sorry I made you that way

and I'm sorry that when you are my happiness becomes devoid

the fact is I'm paranoid

that maybe this time it's the relationship I've destroyed.

 

I think it's a combination of that paranoia 

the depressions, the migraines and hallucinations

the 4 am chills and the 'pick you up buttercup' pills

that's made me this way 

 

you wonder why I'm so childish? 

because while I was filling up with all those things above

I had never once learned 

how to grow up.

 

 

 

 

 

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