trista mateer poetry sentences (ii)
Trista Mateer is an American writer and poet. She won the Goodreads Choice Award in 2015 for poetry with The Dogs I Have Kissed. I have seen a lot of quotes of her writing on tumblr and I think her writing is absolutely phenomenal. If you want to support her writing—much of which is free online—check out her online store which features physical chapbooks and other items, or her patreon/ko-fi. The Dogs I Have Kissed and Honeybee can also be found as ebooks on Amazon.
This sentence meme uses quotes that I’ve sourced online. Adjust sentences as needed, but remember where it comes from! And if you can, please support!
For more poetry sentence memes. For more Trista Mateer poetry sentences.
I’m not sorry. I’m doing the right thing. I swear I’m doing the right thing.
I have absolutely no doubts about walking away from you.
This is the best thing. This is for the best. I have to do this.
I am bad for you and sometimes you are bad for me and this isn’t working anymore. Nothing is working anymore.
I don’t know how to talk to you without feeling like nothing I have to say is important enough or wise enough or good enough.
I don’t feel good enough anymore. You don’t make me feel good enough anymore. I don’t make you feel good anymore.
I have to do this. I have to do this. Please don’t pretend you didn’t feel this coming on. We’ve been circling the drain for months now.
We both have things to do and we tried doing them together but it just doesn’t work. We just don’t work anymore. I know we used to. I swear we used to.
I have to do this. I want things you disapprove of and you want things that I cannot give you.
You still have time to do all of the things you want to. I promise. You just have to let me step out of the way.
I have to do this. I have to. I have to get the fuck out of here.
Nobody is in love with me and everything is still warm. Still soft.
Love that needs to be weighed down in order to stay is not love.
When I was packing to leave, I took the curtains down and let light into our bedroom for the first time in months. It almost looked like nothing bad happened there.
Hey, is your ex-boyfriend Rome? because everything leads back to him.
My heart is buzzing again. My heart is a wasp’s nest. My heart is a monument to absence.
I put my regret into a box and write FREE TO A GOOD HOME on the side of it.
What is in me, is in you. And I’m sorry for it. And I’m not sorry for it.
I love you and I still wonder if someone else could love me better.
There is a woman in our bed and I think she is supposed to be me, but she rarely ever feels like me.
It passes for intimacy the way almost anything passes for water when the well’s run dry or you’ve misplaced the river.
Who taught you that love is only good until it’s opened? Who told you that it spoils? Why did you take it so literally?
I wanted to be the place you put everything down, but it’s okay if I’m not.
You needed to love something other than yourself to feel alive and it wasn’t me.
I don’t know how our bodies got so used to the space between them.
I keep trying out different ways to say goodbye. Not to you. Because we already did that. But to us. To the idea of us.
I read somewhere that it’s okay to miss people even if you don’t want them in your life anymore; and I hope that’s true. I hope everything I feel is okay.
Tonight I kissed three people on the mouth because I still don’t know what you taste like.
I feel like I am always two parts tequila, one part longing.
We outgrew each other in angry uncoordinated ways.
It is so easy to make monsters out of the people I have loved.
Tell me that you have been dreaming of me. That you wake up in cold sweats, gulping in air.
It would be a shame to look back on this and (out of bitterness) not call it love.
Today I accidentally told someone that I love you.
She does not remind me of anything; everything reminds me of her.
I’m not sure I even know how to let you go.
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