This one is for you.
This is for your brain that never seemed to move past the junior high.
This is for your shoes that purposely have holes in them,
I'm terribly sorry.
This is for the hair you've lost
and the lies you've told,
this is for the tears that you've cried,
and the tears that you've caused.
This is for your eyelids that droop over your unnaturally round eyes,
and this is for when they close,
and you can breathe.
Now, this one is for you.
This is for your apparent beauty
that leaves everyone looking.
This is for your rash thoughts,
and the words that come from them.
This is for the friends you've lost,
and the ones you've gained,
and the ones that probably won't come back.
This is for the hugs I gave you,
they meant something, you know?
This is for the night in my backyard,
the only time you willingly let me hug you.
This is for all the times I wanted you to stay at my house,
because I'm worried what it's like at your house.
I've stopped caring about me,
this isn't about me,
it's about you.
This one, you guessed it, is for you.
This is for when you unwrapped my heart like a Christmas present.
Only, it wasn't a toy.
This next one is for all of you guys.
It's for your image.
It's for your scene.
It's for your lies,
and your sneers,
and the stress you cause.
It's for your need for attention.
It's for your "corruption".
It's for your demand to be treated like a peasant,
and for your desire to be treated like royalty.
It's for everyone you have fooled.
Dear y'all,
I'm done.
This is for our shallow waters,
I'm almost sorry that we didn't swim to the deep end.
Almost.
This one is for me.
This is for testing out how often I actually have to shower.
This is for my apparent lack of creativity.
This is for my go-to writing structure.
This is for the body aches,
and the common complaints,
and this is for the stares and the insincere words of sympathy.
This is for the cold hands.
(I'm used to it by now.)
This is for dark nights,
and the misty mornings,
but even more importantly,
this is for the misty nights,
and the dark mornings.
This is for the three books I'm currently reading.
and the two I'll probably start after this week.
This is for my music.
This is for my Vitamin D deficiency.
This is for my brain,
will someone help me find the blue prints?
Because it's not matching up to hers.
Or his.
Or, anyone's really.
And I'm scared to admit it,
(I don't want to be smitten...
smited?
smote?)
but this is for the times I've cried on my knees,
silently screaming for comfort,
beating my wrists and my head,
pleading
pleading
pleading
for help,
and it just simply didn't come.
This is for provoking my sister,
and wanting my brother,
and trying to find the remote to life,
because I'm ready to fast forward.
This is for red lipstick and liquid liner.
This is for her instagram-
no, this one is for me.
It's for cracking my wrists too loudly,
and it's about lost passions.
It's about wanting nothing more than to stop.
It's about my thoughts screaming,
and my mouth saying
"Hi, how are you?"
and it's for my ears listening.
What you write always sounds so good. I can hear your voice through what you say, and it makes it so real to me.
ReplyDeleteI am used to pushing a favorite or like button and I don't ever really know how to explain why I like anything anymore so I am sorry this is a lame comment BUT I LOVE YOU/THIS/EVERYTHING YOU HAVE EVER WRITTEN EVER
ReplyDeletethis is me. the whole part about i want you to stay at my house because i'm worried what it's like at yours..... it just... you get me.
ReplyDelete