I miss how we used to be,
how your fingers dug into
my soul, brought out my emotion,
gave me love but you have
faked happiness, anger but
never love.
I miss the kisses on my cheeks,
the thoughtful words,
the smiles that never faded,
or the way you used to stare
at me like I was a portrait
of beauty.
I miss the love,
you
left in the hole you created
in my chest,
the way my hand felt
like the perfect puzzle
piece.
I miss the person you used to be with me.
I miss believing that
you once felt true
happiness with me, a feeling
I have never greeted,
never met or ever had.
I miss the I love you's,
the gorgeous in the morning,
the beautiful at night,
I miss being called momma.
I miss everything about us
that we used to be. I miss
the love that grew us,
I miss believing that you
love me because how
can you say you wouldn't
feel a thing?
I miss feeling loved,
I miss feeling like you are
in love with me,
a girl who has faked emotions
she has never understood.
A girl who's never fallen in love,
who has tasted posion from a vile,
held blood on her hands,
stabbed men in the heart.
Set love on fire,
danced on its ashes,
& turned it into tea,
drinking its remains,
dancing on its grave.
What can I say?
When I don't understand what love
is or the happiness it brings?
I thought home was a person,
love was a thought,
a chemical in-balance,
& the heart a virus.
I ask you to stop faking emotions,
to hoping, to praying, you don't
flip the switch to feel nothing,
that being led on isn't the goal
or a game of checkers I will
never win.
I miss falling into your hugs,
laying in bed in your arms
& hearing your heartbeat,
holding me closer to feel
your warmth, to understand
maybe this is what love is.
That the love I feel with you
is beautiful, grand, & polite
but then I cry, I whine, & fall
into loveless books of tradgies.
Wondering if all the emotions
you have told have been fake,
if believing in soulmates is even
true to you, I still wonder are
you still in love with me
when you're ignoring me?
My poetry may be blasphemy
but I speak the truth & color it
lace it, tie with a bow & still
tell you I love you.
Yet, I fear that you are faking
the love you feel for me
because you are the first boy I have
ever loved.
The first that my heart
has ever given a chance to hold.
I ask don't break it,
or kill it with gasoline,
because I have never fallen
in love before.
This is all still new me,
I hope you are still falling
in love with me, caressing
my heart & making it whole.
I miss your smile,
your ADHD,
your morbid humor,
& your love for me.
I miss it all but I fear
you have been faking it,
I miss your late night calls,
falling asleep on the phone,
playing me songs that remind
you of us.
I miss us,
the way we used be,
your hugs,
our kisses,
I look at our pictures
& remember our memories.
I still remember falling
in love with you,
beneath a sunset,
our feet in the sand,
teaching me to dance.
I still love you.
About the Creator
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"An Orchestra of American Excellence"
In the core of the immense American spread, Where skies paint dreams with shades gigantic, There lies a vista, a sight divine, Where nature's beauty and workmanship join. In Yosemite's hug, the mountains take off, Their tough pinnacles, Grand from there, The sky is the limit, An orchestra of greens and gold’s, Where stories of old terrains unfurl. Through Fantastic Gorge's gap, Waterways wander, Cutting murmurs in stone, An old book, Layers of time revealed, Uncovered, in each cleft, a story forced. Along the shores of Acadia, waves dance, Their cadenced tides, a mesmerizing daze, Where bluffs meet ocean in quiet veneration, A work of art of seaside polish. In the core of Yellowstone's wild hug, Fountains emit, A heavenly elegance, Painting the sky with warm tones, A scene that eternity follows. From the moving slopes of Tuscany, California. To the blazing sparkle of Arizona's Sahara, America's vistas, each a material interesting, Welcome the spirit to meander and dare. So let us wander these terrains untamed, Where magnificence and marvel stay unchained, In each vista, a brief look at the heavenly, In the immortal scenes of the American line. In the core of the tremendous American region lies a perpetual embroidered artwork of magnificence, Woven with strings of miracle and painted with shades that oppose the creative mind. From the transcending pinnacles of the Rough Mountains to the peaceful shores of the Incomparable Lakes, Every vista murmurs privileged insights of the land, Welcoming investigation and consideration. In the hug of the Smoky Mountains, Fog grips to the valleys like a sweetheart's hug, Relaxing the rough edges of old pinnacles. Daylight channels through the overhang, Dappling the backwoods floor with brilliant kisses, While the tunes of birds weave songs that reverberation through the trees. Across the fields of the Midwest, Fields stretch to the skyline like an interwoven unique blanket, Sewed along with columns of corn and soybeans. The sky curves above, A huge territory of blue that appears to extend on everlastingly, Hindered simply by an intermittent surging cloud. In the deserts of the Southwest, The scene moves and changes like sand in the breeze, Etched by the hands of time into undulating rises and transcending plateaus. Here, the sun sets the sky burning with tints of orange and pink, Creating long shaded areas that dance across the desert floor. Furthermore, in the urban communities that ascent from the earth like landmarks to human resourcefulness, The lights of 1,000 windows sparkle like stars against the night sky. High rises go after the sky, Their glass exteriors mirroring the steadily changing horizon in a sparkling mosaic of steel and glass. In any case, maybe the genuine excellence of America lies in its scenes, However in the variety of its kin and societies. From the clamoring roads of New York City to the drowsy towns of the Profound South, Each side of this tremendous nation recounts an account of strength, imagination, and trust. So let us meander these scenes, both regular and man-made, With hearts open to the miracles that encompass us. For in each view, from the most noteworthy top to the humblest city intersection, There is magnificence to be found for those with eyes to see and hearts to feel.
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