letterstomylostdesires

[letterstomylostdesires]

It’s true I have been obsessively ruminating about how to improve with nothing to show for it

[letterstomylostdesires]

Should I make a throwaway account to share these thoughts with you as if they didn’t belong to me and weren’t about you? Or should I keep it to myself, and for myself, and not let you any further in than you’ve already been. Do you deserve to know me more? Of course not. But I want closure, and in a way that would suffice, you knowing my innermost workings and thoughts. If it’s not me is it really vulnerability? Can you really hold a knife against my throat (my words against me) if you don’t know I wrote them?

[letterstomylostdesires]

Sometimes I’ll lie in my poetry to make it sound good. Kind of how you candy apples to enhance their flavor. Or how you frost a cake to make it look pretty. How you bread a piece of meat and how you douse a salad in dressing. How I talk so highly of a person who couldn’t care less.

[letterstomylostdesires]

Every corner and crevice of my life is packed full of reminders of you and I hate myself for letting you get everywhere like a child with slime or a house infested with termites. You’re eating away at my very being but I still can’t let you go.

[letterstomylostdesires]

I want that exciting, exhilarating teenage love but I wasn’t made for it, I think. I was made for yearning that sinks into my bones like cold rain does through your clothes. That type of love that leaves your bones aching and chilled and hollow.

[letterstomylostdesires]

Eventually the healing just turns into forgetting.

Today our song came on and I didn’t even notice until halfway through.

-Poetry At Most

[letterstomylostdesires]

My door is always open in case you want to come back.

[letterstomylostdesires]

Hey idiot, take this as my confession since I’ll never have you to myself long enough to say everything I want to. Your friends were all right, about me liking you since 9th grade, I mean. And they are all right now, too. I never stopped liking you. Even after I cut our entire friend group out of my like, when I thought back to the krusty krab hoes my mind always wandered to the thoughts of you most. For years I wondered how you were. Whether or not you still looked the same. If you still didn’t know how to do a ponytail. If you even still thought of me. Now I’m sure you didn’t, but just know that you were the only thing I missed after leaving. Even now, I can confidently say that in 10 years times when I reminisce on my senior year I will be thinking of you. You’ve occupied my thoughts for months. From the moment we met at that hockey game after three years of not having seen one another in person and two of not speaking whatsoever, you have been the only thing, the only person on my mind. You have been one long never ending continuous train of thought that seems like it has no end. At least from where I’m standing I don’t see one. That could just be my hopefulness speaking. That part of me that hopes that if I continue on as if my feelings for you are not eating me alive, that maybe one day you will come to me and confess first. If I wait it out, one more year as I have told myself for three already, that maybe, maybe then my silence, my patience will not have been for nothing. But then there’s this other part of me that wants nothing more than to scream in your face how I feel for you and how I’ve always felt. But that side of me has never won. Not once. Like you, I won’t break. I won’t say the first word. I won’t confess anything, not to you, not to anyone, but certainly not you. And it’s killing me. As if I was a shirt with a loose string, the more time I spend internalizing these things, the more worn out I become. The less recognizable I am. The more time I spend beside you never telling you these things the more unraveled I become until I’m nothing more than a pile of string at your feet. But I want to be more than that. More then an after thought. More than a friend. More than I’ve been and more than I am. It’s gut wrenching knowing not my pride and not my heart but my ability to reason stops me from pouring my soul out to you. Since I know you’d look down at me with pity like humans do an injured animal. I have this bad tendency to keep people in my life even after they’ve hurt me and taken my heart from outside my chest, tossed it in the dirt, kicked it around like a ball and put it right back like they did nothing at all…all because I’m scared time will pass and we’ll forget each other. I never want you to be out of reach. Although you’ve made me feel like nothing at all, I always want to look out of my window and see you, across the way, the street, or the city we live in. But I want to know you’re there. I want to know what’s going on. I never want to be in the dark when it comes to the people I’ve loved, even after I’ve stopped loving them. So although I’m becoming less the girl you met and more the girl you’ve created, I never want you far. Never out of reach. Just close enough to touch and graze my fingers across your surface.