A Small Part of Me

Poetry

There’s a small part of me

that lives down deep inside.

A part of me still loves you,

a part of me I thought died.

It thinks about you on rainy days

and days when the sun shines.

It thinks about you in the morning

and late into the night.

I would like to think about other things,

but this small part keeps my thoughts occupied.

It thinks about you when I don’t want to,

and it just so happens to make me cry.

This small part of me remembers the way your hand felt

when it brushed up against mine.

It has a fond memory of when you studied me

to guess the color of my eyes.

It recalls each time you laid me down before bed

and the way our legs intertwined.

What’s weird is this small part of me secretly knows

if you come back into my life.

I would be willing to take every inch of you,

and leave the bitterness behind.

The small part of me says this

even though you messed me up

and left without a goodbye.

But that part doesn’t know this

so it keeps bringing up thoughts

even after all this time.

As I listen to my head

and pretend like everything will be just fine.

I feel my chest rise and fall

but I don’t feel that small part of me tonight.

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Two Broken Hearts

Poetry

Two broken hearts have been captured in this bed.

“I shouldn’t be doing this,” one heart says.

But the mental damage has already been done.

The hearts beat rapidly side by side yet still numb.

Silently seeking for the person who caused the cracks.

These hearts are only pining for something to distract.

Lips slip together like smooth pieces of a puzzle.

No words are spoken their time together is muffled.

Bodies raging full of insecurity.

Their dance is nothing close to maturity.

One of the broken hearts has been left behind.

With nothing to latch on to, nothing to bind.

 

White Converse

Free Verse

I want to know why you picked her over me.

I want to know why you picked her over me when you can clearly see.

You can see the parts of me that are hidden inside of her face.

Everything is symmetrical and put in the best place.

But it wasn’t her perfect smile than shined brighter than mine.

It wasn’t her dark wavy hair that suddenly caught my eye.

She wore a flawless pair of converse in the whitest of hues.

Four years younger than me, and everything seems brand new.

Because the curves in her eyes matched the creases in mine.

The twists in her hips and thighs just reminded me of my small cup size.

Her skin has a dark glow and there are no freckles in sight.

And sometimes I wonder if it’s weird to think of what she smells like.

But let’s not forget her white converse that could shine.

She is adorning a pair that looks very similar to mine.

Except mine are covered in dirt and grass.

Because I’ve been through shit but she’s a class act.

I would wear these shoes over to your place.

I’d leave them by your bed on nights that I would stay.

But you don’t remember because now I’m hidden inside of her.

I guess I can now clearly see what you prefer.

You prefer someone that turned out to be…

beautiful, perfect, a better version of me.

 

 

My Wardrobe

Poetry

As I touch a piece of clothing I try my best not to cry,

But every time I look at my wardrobe I’m taken back to a time.

I look on both sides of this small room and don’t know where to begin,

My clothes have memories attached to someone and my patience is wearing thin.

The first shirt hasn’t been worn in awhile, it’s the hardest piece to see,

It’s the loose navy top I wore on a memorable night you got to meet me.

I paired it with skin-tight black jeans and my trustworthy combat boots,

A deathly combination I’d always sworn made me look super cute.

Agreement came in the form of a kiss on that very night,

Hearts thumping like crazy as you held me close under a cliche streetlight.

We kept our bodies near so I liked wearing my soft crimson henley,

You’d fasten me in your arms and caress my ribcage ever so gently.

I fought off my feelings for you because you told me you would not be here long,

When you held me in your sleep I felt you grab at the clothes I kept on.

Holding back my fears was one thing, hoping you wouldn’t string me along,

I took out my skin tight black jeans one night and put those combat boots back on.

I wore my deathly combination of black and paired it with a sheer sweater,

The bar was buzzing but I was only looking forward to our night together.

We drank beer and watched hockey before walking hand in hand back to your place,

And fell asleep watching tv on the couch; when we awoke I saw it on your face.

Rain drizzled from the dark sky as we walked across the parking lot that morning,

You shielded me with your neon work vest which made you quite adorning.

Rain turned to sunshine and I was able to flaunt more of my silky soft skin,

But this time around felt different and I craved your hands spelling out sin.

The hot weather made me throw on a pair of cutoff shorts and show up at your loft,

Falling off one shoulder was the forest green top I could so easily slip off.

Nights like these were simple and picking out my clothes became a piece of cake,

But the impending date of your departure was upon us and my body began to ache.

The same body that wore black trousers and a blouse with tiny white polka dots.

My work attire showed a new side of me and you were there to help drop me off.

We shared two waffles the morning you drove me to school in your truck,

We talked about the ins and outs of work and how you weren’t able to pick me up.

Darkened streets yet I felt safe as you drove us and I listened to your every word,

You stopped in the parking lot and kissed me goodbye with a sweet and subtle smirk.

Something about your gritty smile made that damn smirk the part of you I liked best.

Now I know it was just a joke because you gave it to me the morning before you left.

This time I was the one to give you the kiss goodbye as I crawled onto your mattress,

I was wearing a soft pink thermal when I was left to wonder the state of our status.

I guess now I can say I am pretty lucky that it is no longer warm outside,

So I put away those cutoff shorts that you would so easily slide down my thighs.

Those black jeans have seen better days and I’m tired of the wear and tear.

The black combat boots started to rip so I decided it was time to get a new pair.

But nothing can replace the feelings that my wardrobe still holds dear.

I just wish you’d left me with something that made sense, something more clear.

My fingers brush the hanging clothes and the damp corners of my eyes,

As I continue to look around this closet it is hard to put my feelings aside.

The Bridge I’ve Built

Poetry

They said to take some time, cry,

but she should also move on.

Build that damn bridge girl

he’s officially gone.

Cliche words handed over to

the girl with a broken heart.

Left alone without a word

her insides have fallen apart.

But here she is one year later

still trying to sort it out.

That bridge she was building

is broken and full of doubt.

The first board she put down when

she told herself this won’t last.

She could hear others whisper

watch how quickly this will pass.

Her bridge-building skills aren’t great

and she has delicate hands.

He held them as they watched a movie

or when he asked her for a slow dance.

Yet she continued hammering boards

without any engineer assistance.

But there are gaps from his absence when

he obviously needed some distance.

The bridge laid out before her

isn’t a very clear path.

Most boards have been broken from

the heartbreak aftermath.

Her head tells her to take the rickety path

and maybe you will learn as you go.

But the heart warns her she could fall

for someone she barely even knows.

The soul demands to strike a match

to burn everything that lies ahead.

She looks around hesitant

and takes another path instead.

I Know You

Poetry

Your face is another episode of déjà vu.

A look I once saw every night and every day,

I know you because I used to be you.

 

Bright eyes beaming a bold blue,

sparkle with curiosity to my dismay.

Your face is another episode of déjà vu.

 

Crowded teeth bursting a giant debut,

laughing aloud as the boys come out to play.

I know you because I used to be you.

 

Flushing cheeks are now in view,

freckles aplenty are now out on display.

Your face is another episode of déjà vu.

 

But now that I am twenty-two,

I conceal my worries and lock them away.

I know you because I used to be you.

 

I still let the compliments ensue,

even though this isn’t how I should be portrayed.

Your face is another episode of déjà vu.

I know you because I used to be you.

Green-Eyed Girls

Poetry

Only three percent of the world’s population

Possess some form of green colored eyes.

How strange it is that your list of ex-lovers

All seem to share this sweet surprise.

Maybe you don’t know this about yourself

But clearly, I think you do.

See you have this thing for green-eyed girls

And it’s obvious you crave this hue.

Each face is distinct, a different kind, but

Look closely at the pigment on their rims.

Your favorite color swirling inside the orbs,

A simple piece of the forest living in them.

Your first girlfriend in high school was the

Cheerleader or popular kind, I guess.

I’m sure her sea foam eyes matched the color

Of her corsage, and sparkly prom dress.

Next up was a single mom with a son whom you

Wrestled with while he wore his army gear.

Her eyes reflected the color of her son’s combat helmet

And you three were an item for a little over two years.

Heartbreak can lead you down a disastrous path though

And sometimes alter your ever-changing views.

I’m not sure if you thought this girl was the one but

It seemed like the situation left more than a bruise.

This path led you to a younger woman’s bed who had

Similar features of your ex, casting an illusion.

None of this resembled a relationship that was real

Which led you down another trail of confusion.

Soon you attached yourself to another innocent bystander

Who was focused and determined to keep you forever.

Fire red hair flowing next to her emerald eyes full of awe

And yet you ran off looking for something better.

Another single mother with a daughter this time

And olive eyes glowing between thin black creases.

But she wasn’t the one you’d been searching for

So you left her and her heart in a million pieces.

I’m afraid to say this is the part where we finally reach

My side of this crazy green-eyed girl story.

I never thought I was a distraction from your crazy life

But I also didn’t yet know of those who came before me.

You were falling into a spiral and this time

I was the one trapped in your vicious web.

I wanted it to feel right when we were together

But all you wanted was me in your bed.

My green eyes have always been something

I loved about my outward appearance.

But when you saw them it was nothing

Just another soul on clearance.

So congrats, you made me a green-eyed monster

Filled to the brim with crazy envy.

Because the next girl you began to date

Stole my eyes so you can easily forget me.

The Leaf

Poetry

My eyes and limbs are frozen still

as I stand on the cold hard ground.

A crackling noise is coming from above

I look and see dead leaves falling down.

One by one drifting back and forth

swinging off the branches in slow motion.

Setting their sights on a safe landing

but stepping on one will leave it broken.

I look down at this brown leaf

believing it’s some dull dried up thing.

But I suppose it was once a small bud

unfolding to the sun in the Spring.

Sitting and waiting so delicately then

freshly awakened ready to grow –

into something precious and wild

that the storms will eventually get to know.

I imagine the leaf open wide now because

it survived the treacherous storm.

But this poor leaf will soon feel silence

she was left alone and has taken a new form.

I hope the leaf feels content now

the storms have appeared to go away.

Summer is here with bright beginnings

and it has brought the leaf a new day.

I see the leaf starting to change in the Fall

because time has brought her a brand new color.

But the storm is coming back now

so the leaf hangs on tight and takes cover.

I think the storm is different this time

because the leaf did not let go of the limb.

It brings the leaf plenty of rain to live off of

but the storm did not come back again.

No water means the leaf is hopeless

and forgotten in the harsh dark Winter.

It will soon dry up to almost nothing

and I hope that stupid storm will miss her.

I look up one more time to watch

the leaves falling from the trees.

As they continue to drift back and forth

I can’t help but realize these leaves are me.

I’m the leaf sitting

on that cold hard ground.

Just waiting for Spring to begin

because I want to bloom

and stop falling down.

Her versus Me

Poetry

Her face against yours in that picture

made the volcano inside of me erupt.

The emotions spewing from my body

felt like acid reflux; unwanted and abrupt.

Confrontation was not what you wanted

but my gloves were ready for the ring.

Preparing to fight until you insisted

that we were the exact same thing.

My head dropped to my chest

because I honestly could not see

why you had turned something like this

into a battle; her versus me.

You consoled me and did not blame me

for feeling the way that I did.

I waited days to give you another chance

like I was some dumb little kid.

I made your bed when you showered

and I saw her name light up your phone.

We never discussed what this was

but how should I have known?

Screaming at the top of my lungs

each time I drove over to your place.

But soon my heart would melt

the second I saw your charming face.

Just tell me why you are friends with her

even though she is miles away.

Yet I am the one knocking on your door

begging like a stray dog who wants to stay.

Maybe this was all my fault

I am still not exactly sure.

But now I know your secrets

were something I could not endure.

Months have gone by without seeing you

but it has honestly felt like years.

I tend to think she is still in your life

and it brings me to my knees in tears.

Toothpaste, Ketchup, and Yellow Trucks

Poetry

I have a list that goes on for miles,

I made it the other day.

I wrote down all the things that remind me of you,

stuff I should probably throw away.

The good, the bad, and the ugly

I have to bid adieu.

But I really want to tear it up

and pretend this isn’t true.

It begins with the orange toothpaste,

something I used when

I stayed at your place.

I recall the mint flavor on your tongue,

but now that usually sweet taste

has left me bitter and stung.

Next is the bottle of ketchup I see,

sitting there in my fridge

obviously taunting me.

The brand is your last name,

number 57 was on your jersey

at every hockey game.

I’ll see it at the local grocery store,

but I don’t want it in my

fridge anymore.

The final item I cannot throw away,

impossible to do so

because I see it every day.

Yellow trucks roaming around,

and the second I see one

my walls begin to crumble down.

It might not be the yellow truck you drive,

but still I look and swerve

and barely survive.