Last year’s butterflies and hope
Turned into this year’s blank stares,
Emotional black void, and “I hope we make it.”

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@wordsaregolden22
Last year’s butterflies and hope
Turned into this year’s blank stares,
Emotional black void, and “I hope we make it.”
I don’t want someone with glue
To come along and piece back
Together the parts of me that
Have broken off here and there.
I am not that person anymore.
I want someone to come along
And see me as I am, and think
That I’m enough to build
Something beautiful with.
And suddenly I realized
That I no longer
Thought of those from
The past and the hell
They put me through.
In fact, it had been
A little while.
Instead of see ghosts
Haunting storefronts,
Streets and parking lots,
I see opportunities to
Potentially make new
Memories.
I unconsciously made
Space in my mind for
You. I remember you.
Your smile, your laugh,
The sound of your voice,
The feel of your skin,
The safe feeling I get with you.
It doesn’t hurt to remember
Anymore. And I hope it stays
That way.
I thought you would
Change yourself for me.
Because who I was then
Was actually worth it.
But you didn’t see that.
Instead, I have changed
So much of myself over
The years that I don’t think
I’ll ever be able to just be me again.
You’re still completely you though,
The same you were as the first time
That I met you.
And here I am again,
Struggling to do basic
Human functions. I have
To remind myself that I
Need to eat, breathe,
And sleep at least a few
Hours to live. Showering
Is not an optional thing,
Unless you want to be
Disgusting.
But
It hurts to just exist.
I never understood how you
Can act like you love someone
If you are doing things you
Know will hurt them and just
Count on dumb luck to save
This thing going on between you
When they find out.
I think I’m finally done
Watching you carry on just fine
While I’m falling apart inside.
I have to draw a line somewhere
Because after all, how many times
Can a heart break before one dies?
We are not the same.
I hurt myself telling the truth
And owning up to everything I have done
While you save yourself by sharing
Lie after lie, doing nothing but buying
Yourself a little more time.
It must be tiring, always having something
That you need to hide.
The extremely sad truth is:
Being alive is quiet, no matter
How loudly you live. You disappear
Into the noise of everything around you.
People will forget you exist just simply
Because they know that you are in fact
Still existing somewhere, so all must be well.
Death however, is deafening no matter
How quietly you slip away. Although it may
Be ironic, it is true. People notice you no
Longer existing even though they didn’t
Care that you were in the first place. That
Is when you suddenly become important;
When it’s too late.
And back then,
I thought I could
Love you enough to make
You love me. I tried.
You never loved me as
Much as I loved you
Back then. But after
So many let downs and
So much hurt, I think I
Finally love you as
Little as you have
Always loved me...
I’ve made a lot of
Mistakes my dear, but you are
Hands down my favorite one
Mom taught me
That floral foam
Is great for holding
Flower arrangements
Together. With that,
You have completely
Control over what goes
Where and everything
Stays exactly in its place
She wanted to do that for
a living; become a florist.
She might’ve made it if life
Wasn’t so messy and out
Of place. If only there were
Floral foam for life.
I wanted to be a writer when
I grew up. I loved notebooks,
Paper, pens, pencils, and
The feeling of being in control
Of what words were put where
As they formed sentences, paragraphs,
Pages... I loved how the lines seemed
To hold every single letter I wrote;
Everything stayed where it belonged.
If only life were like a notebook.
But,
What if Heaven
Was destroyed
Ages ago and
It’s remnants
We’re hidden inside
Of special people.
Angels?
Late at night or
Early in the morning,
More accurately around
3 AM, when most of the
World is asleep and the
Stars can breathe again
After lighting up the world
For hours, I swear that’s
When the night sky looks
The most beautiful and it
Truly feels like miracles
Could happen.
Dear Seventeen,
You are more than: a number
On the scale, the amount of
Time you spend exercising,
The “healthy” meals on your
Plate that no one notices you
Barely eat, or the number that
Is on a tag inside or your jeans.
My dear,
You are so much more
Than the piercings that
You put in your skin, the amount
Of make-up that you spend hours
Applying, the countless pictures
That you take from different angles
Trying to find “the perfect one,” or
The number of “friends” you don’t
Really have.
Sweetie,
There will be time for jobs,
College courses, dates that you
Have never been asked on, and
To figure life out.
Dear seventeen,
No one will tell you this, but you
Are still a kid. Your life right now
Is simple and you should enjoy it
As it is. Hug you family tighter.
Love yourself. It won’t always be
Like this.
With love,
No longer seventeen.
What they cannot see is
Everything they should;
Exhausted souls, rivers of tears,
Bruises and broken pieces.
Nothing everything beautiful
Was always that way.
And if you happen to
Somehow stumble
Into Normal, please
Tell her how much we
All miss her. Even the
Things about her that
We thought we hated.
Tell Normal if she ever
Comes back to us we
Would truly appreciate
Her for all that she is.
Tell her that we need her;
Our lives have been a mess
Since she left.
I think about the
Past a lot and
Miss it too much
For someone who
Doesn’t want to
Go back there.
Outside my window,
The world is quiet
And still for what
Seems like the first
Time ever.
I count the stars and
Befriend the moon.
We have conversations
About the better times
That are yet to come.
We're going to be okay.