writing to free my mind

don't take anything i say serious; seriously.

[poeticallyimperfectblog]

blind them with your beauty

I wish someone admired me the way that people admire the sunset. The way that a person could be talking to someone outside and they’ll stop mid conversation to say, “The sunset looks beautiful tonight.” They might even pull out their phone to snap a picture. It doesn’t matter if they’re surrounded by people because they don’t care if anyone sees. They don’t care because they’ll have a beautiful picture when it’s all said and done. 

Similarly, I would want to be the sunset but for a different reason. The sunset never asks for attention, day in and day out it just does what it’s supposed to do. It looks beautiful whether people notice it or not, and that’s what I think is the most intriguing about the sunset. It’s there, it’s bright, and it’s bold. It’s saying “I’m here and I’m beautiful regardless if you look at me or not.”

[poeticallyimperfectblog]

does anyone fall in love anymore?

when i keep giving away parts of myself

it is no wonder that i can never feel whole,

i think the part of myself that wants to keep giving realizes that soon enough there won’t be anything to give,

this is what happens when you let selfish people in,

they take from you fully knowing your intentions are pure and lead you to believe that they are the same,

they spend all their time convincing you that they’re invested and aren’t playing games,

and then the facade begins to fade,

you start to see them for who they really are and not the person they portrayed,

but they told you all of these sweet things that must be true,

because they said them as they were lying next to you,

the only thing people want to do is leave before they get left,

because all our generation cares about is who could care less,

so if you’re someone looking for substance or something with meaning,

you’re better off keeping to yourself than falling for someone who will only end up leaving.

[poeticallyimperfectblog]

dreaming of  y o u

you know when you have a nightmare and you aren’t consciously aware that it’s a nightmare yet? the second you realize that your nightmare is in fact a nightmare, you try to change it around. sometimes you can fix the ending and other times you can’t gain control and you force yourself to wake up.

our relationship was the kind of nightmare i had to force myself to wake up from. part of me still wonders what would have happened if i kept going... would i have been able to gain control at some point? would i have been the survivor or would i have met an unavoidable demise?

but if i’m being honest i know the answer to those questions. it’s like a lot like the part in the horror movies when the character hears a noise and goes to investigate. you know that it’s more than likely a murderer and she’s more than likely getting killed, but the show can’t go on without a little suspense. there she is, right on cue, meeting her unavoidable demise. a lot like how my unavoidable demise was meeting you. 

[poeticallyimperfectblog]

it’s ironic that we met in oklahoma

you were the perfect storm that i didn’t see coming. the way you made me feel swept me off my feet, the same way the oklahoma wind blows my hair in front of my face on a windy day. the way you kissed me made my heart beat so hard in my chest it rumbled through my whole body, the same way thunder shakes the walls of my house as i lay in bed. the electricity that i felt between us was a lot like the lightning you see shooting across the dark night sky. everyone around could see the chemistry between us. then all at once, there was nothing… just complete silence. that’s when you wrecked my world. you were the tornado that tore me apart. you were unpredictable and just as fast as you came, you were gone. 

[poeticallyimperfectblog]

love, as it should be

when i was growing up my view on love changed a lot, as it should. in early childhood you know you love your parents and your family. in elementary school the phrase “do you believe in love at first sight or should i walk by again?” is what every little girl would say. we would laugh, but we all believed it was possible. in high school i believed that love was something so special that i felt like i had to save the word for the right person. i had never told a boy that i loved him. i dated a boy for three years and i knew in my heart that the word was meant to be used for much more than what we had. after high school i was told that love is a choice. you choose to love someone through anything. the ups and downs and whether you stick around is up to you. you have to work on your relationship. now as i’m in my second year of college, i realize that yes there is some truth to that, but it’s mostly bullshit. love should not be that hard to come by. love should come easy. it should be felt in the compliments you give each other. the way you hold my hand and kiss my forehead. the way you look at me when i’m not paying attention. the way you hold me in your arms as we watch movies at your place. love should not be hard. love should not be forced. love should be given and love should be received.

[poeticallyimperfectblog]

moving on and not getting over

tonight i met someone new and being around him made me miss you so much more. he kissed me but not the way that i had been so used to. not s w e e t enough, not p a s s i o n a t e enough. he kissed my neck and his breath, hot on my neck, made me giggle. “my neck is ticklish,” i had to say, but you would’ve already known that. at that point you would’ve said “oh really? you’re ticklish there? i didn’t know,” while you continued to blow hot air on my neck, making me giggle uncontrollably. then i would yell at you to stop and struggle to get away from you. that memory alone in the back of my mind makes me want to scream stop. “THIS HAS NO MEANING,” my mind keeps saying over and over, but i let it continue. 

i’m with someone else and it makes me miss you even more? 

what is wrong with me? 

i try to make sense of it and it’s clear to me now that i tried to move on too fast. i wasn’t ready for this. when he touches me it feels so foreign and when you touched me it felt like i was an instrument that only you knew how to play. when my hands trailed his skin it wasn’t what i had been so used to, it felt foreign. when he whispered in my ear it wasn’t soothing. it made me want to stop him in the middle of his sentence and say, “say something meaningful, don’t make with small talk with me.” most of all i think i hated how in a few short months you felt like home to me because now every other person feels like an unwanted guest.

[poeticallyimperfectblog]

alcohol you later when i’m drunk

i don’t know when i became the girl that cried over a stupid boy when she got drunk. when she let all of her emotions take over and she couldn’t control herself anymore. i don’t know when i allowed you to have that much control over me. i can’t even enjoy myself when i’m drunk because i think of you. 

when i’m sober i’m okay because i can remind myself of every bad thing that you ever did or said to me, but when i’m drunk...

 i think about how i used to crawl into bed with you after a long night out and fall asleep with my head on your chest. i think about how you would run your fingers through my hair and say “tell me something i don’t know about you already.” 

when i’m drunk i want so desperately to call you and tell you about my day... and sometimes i do. 

when i’m sober i can stop myself. “THINK OF HOW MISERABLE HE MADE YOU FEEL,” my subconscious screams. but when i’m drunk it’s like her voice turns to yours and my chest aches at the thought of never seeing you again, or telling you the minor details that i’ve never dared to tell anyone else. 

when i’m sober i can act like i’m fine, but when i’m drunk i can’t fake it and that’s why i quit drinking. so i can finally quit missing you. 

[poeticallyimperfectblog]

thinking but not thinking

i think the worst part about it all is that i still care about you. i catch myself relating everything back to you. i think about sitting on your couch watching you play video games and rubbing circles on your back as you shouted at the tv. i think about the little comments you would make when you found out something new about me. “i like you,” you would say and take my hand in yours, kissing the back of it gently. when you would take pictures and videos of me when i wasn’t paying attention and send them to me later with cute little texts attached to them. i think about how i used to lay next to you and how we would look into each others eyes. i think about how you would tell me everything you were thinking about in that moment. the thoughts would range from what you liked about me to the fears you had about me one day leaving you and i would tell you that you were being silly. or when i would get mad at you and roll over to face the opposite way and i would feel your arms wrap around me as you would say “baby, come on..” in my ear. the same voice that i would later on hear say hateful things to me over the phone. the same voice that i would hear make excuses over and over. 

the most frustrating thing about everything is that i don’t know if any of it was even real. i know it happened, i heard it, saw it, and felt it so i know it all actually took place, but the person that you were when i first met you was not the person that i broke up with. 

i don’t understand what happened and i probably never will. i guess you were just a really good actor that had me fooled, and pretty well at that. it just sucks that i let my guard down only to let the wrong person in. 

i was being real and honest and it sucks to know that it wasn’t enough for you. it also sucks that i’m writing about you right now because you could probably care less about how i’m feeling. 

you don’t deserve to know the way i feel because i don’t want you to think that you have power over me. i’m not here to boost your ego. you didn’t deserve how good i treated you when you couldn’t do the simplest tasks for me. you don’t even deserve this post, but here i am posting it. 

[poeticallyimperfectblog]

the eyes say it all

my parents got divorced when i was very young. i didn’t understand why my parents didn’t want to be together at the time, but as a person gets older that changes because that person is able to understand that not everyone is meant to be together. that didn’t keep me from asking them questions about each other as i grew up. i was curious to know how two people i loved just couldn’t love each other anymore. 

one day, i had been reading articles on how couples met and it made me curious so i began to ask my mother questions. where did you meet my father? what made you fall in love with him? when did you know it was over?

she said that she could still remember how they met, it was at work and she had heard his voice before she saw him. she said his voice sent chills down her spine when she heard it because it was such a perfect tone. then she said she turned to find the person who had spoken to her and met his eyes, which she said were a beautiful light blue/grey color. she continued, “the second i saw his eyes, i fell in love. i knew that i wanted to be with him.” 

when i had asked her how she knew it was over she seemed upset for a second, but she composed herself. “you just get to a point where you question everything that they say and you question their intentions. we just weren’t happy anymore. we used so much of each other that we just burnt out and once i was burnt out, i didn’t have the energy to try anymore. i knew that i would be better off alone than dragging you and your brother through an unhappy relationship.”

i understood this all too well. it broke my heart to know that the two people i cared about most tore each other apart.

when we ended the conversation she mentioned that she was tired and ready for bed. she quietly got up from her chair, kissed my forehead, and said, “Goodnight my beautiful blue-eyed baby girl.”

then as she walked away, my heart burst in my chest as the realization hit me. i have my father’s eyes..