You’re In My Head

Poetry Writing

[i-am-a-hot-mess]

A LifeTime of Waiting

Once again a memory falls back on my face.

A video of you singing,

or doing some thing absolutely stupid.

I’m laughing,

and you’re looking at me like

I’m crazy.

I send these to you,

hoping that you feel

something in return

after

I send.

I wish I would get a response:

”Man I miss you”

“I wish you were here right now.”

“I wish that we were like that again.” Or maybe

I hope for a text at 2:15 AM off my phone,

knowing you’re at work.

Telling me you miss me,

Or that you wish you could hug me.

I wish that you could tell me that I meant

more to you

than you showed me.

I had hoped,

I could see you,

your struggling

so I could feel a little bit better

about the random crying episodes I go through

nowadays.

To know,

I wasn’t the only one struggling

with this new arrangement.

I forget that I’m supposed to keep it short

and sweet

when exchanging words with you. Because

I’ve always felt unfathomably comfortable

and safe around you.

And those few simple words

I’m only supposed to say

ends up being a

30 minute conversation

because I don’t know when to stop.

I never stop

and you

never interrupt,

but just listen.

.silence.

Coming from the other line.

Maybe one day,

I’ll get an” I miss you”

or something more.

As I cry talking to my phone

as it writes every word

I’m saying down,

I question if this will ever be sent to you.

Half of me expects

me to send this as soon as I’m done, and the other half

expects me to leave it here. Unnoticed.

Untouched.

Unread.

Just like I have felt for so long.

I have to remember why

I need to stop crying,

because the simple reason is this:

The reason I am crying

is also the reason why I need

to stop crying.

No matter how much I can beg

for you to show me something,

It’ll take you a lifetime

to finally tell me

what’s on your heart.

And I hope by then,

my heart won’t need

to hear it.

[i-am-a-hot-mess]

Winner

How do I say you’ve won?

I’ve known for so long,

The behavior you gave off when you’re hurt.

You’ve strike where it burns.

You knew my weaknesses.

The pain you put me through,

All must be okay with an:

“I didn’t mean to.”

Oh the digging off the grave,

I never wanted.

Bit by bit.

Perfume smells lining the basement stair walls,

While I tape boxes up.

Sleepless nights

and giggling beneath me.

$350 dollars given to me as a “head start”

Only to buy someone else a ring of that price.

A price. On me.

You did so much more than won.

You saw I moved on.

Took my own advice when I never meant it.

I wanted you to hurt first.

While the seasons changed, I wanted you to see.

Eyes on all corners of my life.

Engaged at 4 months.

A surprise on my side of the court.

You asked her instead of me,

Because I said “you better marry this one”

After lyrics inked forever in your skin

On a night out with her.

Poor thing.

She doesn’t know about me.

You didn’t tell her everything.

More lies spread across your lips.

If she did know,

Forsaken she is to say “yes.”

Your choices I must say scream “Happy”

but we both know this was a plot.

Fool me once.

No.

fooled me five times.

To that I say, you’ve won

as I recover from the accident you so

“Didn’t mean to” cause.

Oh but you did.

Fool I am.

[i-am-a-hot-mess]

It really bugs me when

it says delivered...

17 hours ago.

When you use to get mad at me

for leaving you on read

17 minutes ago.

You no longer message me

for being your only friend.

i'm now the person you ghost

and wish would stop replying.

[i-am-a-hot-mess]

Breathe me in, breathe me out

I’ve learned to sleep without you

while the same bed.

You taught me, forced me

to learn a new habit.

Less physical contact, more virtual liveliness.

Such a turn off

coming down those steps,

seeing the headphones drowning my voice out.

1. The blank expression on the face

2. That glaring white light draining your eyes.

The ones that once smiled at mine.

You may pull one headphone back,

Ask a simple question.

Get a simple answer.

Return to the attention stealer.

Attention span of a child.

My time spent with you is now just in the bed.

Here and there you’ll scooch your way over

to the right side,

and nuzzle my neck, touch my back, or ass.

Usually it’s because you want sex.

I give it to you too,

because it’s the only piece I have of you now.

Not seeing your face through the midnight hours

but the breathe you make from trying to love me.

Do you love me anymore?

Will this be my life as your wife?

These questions range through my head

every time that phone light flicks on throughout the night.

So I’ve learned to be a “you”

less and less attention you’ll get,

and once in awhile I’ll go down on you.

You’re losing my heart,

loosing my affection,

and soon my attention.

The last you’ll get is when you hear that last breathe.

[i-am-a-hot-mess]

You Make Me Feel Sick

You hurt me to the point

Of uncontrollable.

I feel sick,

Damp and warm,

Like the air after it rains.

Humid.

I’m trying to breathe you in,

but I’m constantly coughing.

My stomach aches:

Food poison.

Throwing up

the words you come back with,

Instead of just saying sorry.

I’ll be in the bathroom,

Until you come home.

Then, slipping into bed:

Quietly crying myself to sleep,

reaching for that stuffed animal

instead of your hand.

[i-am-a-hot-mess]

Scrubbing Death Away

A shift finished,

a shower next, so I can scrub the smell

of death from my hands.

I stayed there for the longest time,

never wanting to leave your side.

You use to tell me stories,

about how you hated that lamp,

and had a friend who would break

apart your bed.

Your smile would spread across your face

Whenever I called your name.

I’m here with you,

letting you know it’s okay to go.

Holding your hand,

feeling the weak pulse bulge from your skin.

I hear you trying to breathe.

Sounds like your screaming “help.”

Your heart is racing, making up for what has

already shut down.

Your color is gone,

Left with a red tinted blue face.

Your blue eyes that used to look at me,

Calling me beautiful,

were glazed over by a thick clear film.

Now they’re closed and you’re wishing

it was all over.

I wanted to be there when you left,

so I could finally put an end to hearing

the gaging breathe you were giving me.

Everything in you was leaking out:

Sweat & fluids.

I finally said goodbye,

gave you one last hug,

and felt your heart trying to pound any signs

of life out.

You use to shake,

move your feet, trying to

get back into that wheelchair you always

took naps in.

Your hands felt lifeless.

You had already left your body,

and were simply waiting for the angels to call

and you took off being

the best version of yourself,

While I went home

and scrubbed death off my hands.

[i-am-a-hot-mess]

Triggers

The camp,

Parent’s mentioning the hospital,

The belt.

All these little, insignificant things

thrown around over a course of a few days.

Then it hits me.

You saw a belt,

I saw a scarf.

You saw a garage,

I saw a closet.

The room I sleep in now,

is the room I slept in then.

There was a hook.

What is left?

A hole.

In my brain,

the ceiling.

PTSD

about what I had tried to do

To myself.

And I relive that moment,

Over and,

Over

I need to seek help

and forgive a 15 year old girl

for the damage she caused

Then and now.

[i-am-a-hot-mess]

Busy

Does it hurt you,

Like it hurts me

EveryTIME you say you’re busy?

[i-am-a-hot-mess]

Picture Perfect

It’s one of those pictures,

that make you stop and stare at it.

Peek into every shadow, touch of light, and

contrast.

Zoom into every curve, muscle, and definition.

Place your finger tips on the softness of skin,

feel how smooth, dry, and warm it feels.

Satisfy your eyes, hunger, and touch

to see this live

that a concert that will drive your body wild.

Always treasure the times you get

those pictures.

[i-am-a-hot-mess]

Betrayal

A cookie cuter

____slicing___

away at my doughy form.

~~Pulling~~

away at my trust.

Baking

me into a harden surface.

Now I’m just something for you to

Bite and Chew

on and I can no longer

share with you the same way again.

[i-am-a-hot-mess]

Maybe I’ll Disappear

Keeping all the pieces in

by squeezing myself into a

ball of blankets and body warmth.

Trying to decide,

If this is what I want.

To disappear again,

for just a few days.

Ignore the people that care,

go off in a self-seeking path,

Remind myself what my life is like,

when you push people away.

I’ve felt it before,

so why do I crave it so much,

to do it again?

[i-am-a-hot-mess]

Gloom

Today is a good thinking day

with a touch of

Misery.

[i-am-a-hot-mess]

Acceptance

I’m a pop bottle,

That gets shaken around and left

In a cold car

Until the pressure builds up

and explodes

Into a trail of emotions.

It’s so hard to accept,

that life is tough sometimes.

Especially watching your family,

One by one,

change due to problems.

Your mother is not herself,

and never leaves the house.

Your father keeps the house together,

while you feel like your burning inside.

Your brother is trying to find his way around the loops,

while your baby sister pulls out all her hoops.

Your mother admits to still resenting you

for the past you cannot change,

while you’re never home and they think it’s strange.

The house slowly starts to fill up

with baby toys and clutter,

and secretly I wait for my family’s

can to opens

and release the emotion building up inside

one another.

[i-am-a-hot-mess]

A Very Bored Heart

Sometimes,

you don’t have any answer

to why you feel the way you do.

So you sit or lean back,

staring at the ceiling of a 

bedroom, bathroom, car.

Focusing on how your body feels,

especially the heart.

Is it sinking low, or beating fast?

Is it smiling, or content?

I can only explain one feeling.

Blah. 

Hearts should never feel bored,

should never feel like nothing,

its always there

or you’d be dead.

If your heart is bored,

go find different music 

so it can find a different rhythm 

to beat against to.

[i-am-a-hot-mess]

Fuck Sleep

Couldn’t sleep last night,

too much thinking about you.

Honestly,

if I drive by you, see you in public.

Scared,

because I don’t want any awkward meets.

Nervous,

about when we actually do meet.

I know nothing.

Not sure what to say, reply, bring up.

Another awkward greeting,

and a quick pace goodbye.

I’m coming to this,

For the closure.

I just don’t know how to close this.

[i-am-a-hot-mess]

Reaching Out

I had to pull aside,

to type it all out.

Venting to you seemed

Like the only person who

was around and understood.

I know I’ve hurt you in the past,

We’ve both beat one another up.

I wrote you about my mom,

My mother!

and all you said was...

I understand,

Take care,

and good luck.

That’s it?

No you don’t “understand”,

Because it’s my mother we’re talking about.

Not yours.

“Good luck” with dealing with her?

So shallow....

“Take care” of your own problems and don’t

Text me again

Seemed like the behind the scenes responses.

I know I’ve hurt you in the past,

But for a moment can we just stop,

and can you just listen,

Like the good old days?

[i-am-a-hot-mess]

Haven’t Let Me Go

Once upon a time,

you made a bet with me.

Answer correctly,

and I’d get a ring.

The ring was purchased,

a joke would be played out.

To you, it wasn’t a joke.

Inside you knew,

I’d be the last.

To me, I played the part,

but began to realize,

maybe I would marry you.

A few years after that bet,

I’m snuggled up against you

in our bed.

We’ve learned we get the best sleep,

resting our heads close.

Your warmth and heaviness

allows me to feel safe.

My little body gives yours a place

to rest against.

The ring I won the bet with,

Framed on our dresser.

You wanted to get married at 19

to make sure I would be yours.

It was me, or nobody else.

You named our children,

and became the stay-at-home father.

You told me you couldn’t wait for me

to be a mother.

I’m a mother to your offspring,

and a loyal wife to only you.

You gave me the world,

Your world,

and we created our own paradise together.

We’re going to last you see,

because I don’t lose on bets.