Red lacy underwear


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Today I wore red lacy underwear.

I did particularly wear it for you. 

But I also sported my cutest pair, 

For the pure knowledge of knowing under all my apparel. 

I had on red lacy underwear. 
Under all my garments, 

I was also completely naked. 

You were the only one I let see my true form. 

Of course there were others before you. 

But I always sucked in my stomach. 

Or laid a certain way. 

Hiding parts of myself I didn’t really care for. 
You touched my skin. 

And gave me back some excitement. 

My skin before you,

Was bruised,


& withered with insecurity. 

Skin that had survived. 

Twenty torturous winters. 

And nineteen traumatizing summers. 
I thought you were different. 

But isn’t that always the case. 

The quiet boy,

Whose always been in your life,

Could never hurt you like the rest did. 
You broke the stereotype. 

Are you happy? 

You added to the carnage. 
Now all the pretty words I said to you,

Over and over again,

They haunt me. 
My words could have filled hundreds of journals. 

But tonight they are droplets of water. 

And I can’t breathe. 

I’m drowning in our conversations. 

And pretty poems. 

About a boy who lied about liking me. 

And my pleas for him to see what was right in front of him. 
I’ll try to catch my breath tomorrow. 

But for tonight. 

I’ll asphyxiate on what could have been. 

There’s a fine line


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I hate you with every molecule in my body. 

But I love you with the passion of a million poets. 
They say there’s a fine line between love and hate. 

And you have have me fumbling back and forth. 
Without you here, 

I hate you. 

If I saw you again, 

I would rather punch you in the face, 

Than have you lay your hands on my skin again. 
But when ur presence is felt. 

I want to hug you for years. 

I want to latch on, 

And never let go. 
There’s a fine line. 

Between love and hate. 
When you are in my line of sight. 

I love you. 

I love you with every ounce of my heart. 

Because I remember all the god things. 

And the times spent laughing, 

And moaning your name. 
But when you are gone. 

I hate you. 

I want to never see you again. 

I want you to forget anything about me. 

I want to you to keep my name out of your mouth. 
There’s a fine line. 

My feelings for you,

Are like walking a tight rope. 

But I slipped off. 

And you’re choking me. 

Not a parent, but a best friend. 


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You abandoned me. 

You picked up everything and left. 

Living in this new fantasy world of yours, 

It must be fun, 


I had a plan. 

My plan was bigger than the school I’m going to. 

Bigger than the job I will get. 

My plan includes living. 

Not simply floating through, 

A mundane life someone chose for me. 

I want to live an extraordinary life. 

I’m a writer. 

You know this. 

How am I supposed to write, 

If I live a life of mediocrity. 

How could I write about my experiences. 

If I have none? 

You were my best friend. 

You were supposed to be on this journey with me. 

You were there, 

While I was growing up,

With not even two friends to rub together. 

You are my mother. 

You’re supposed to be there, 

To love and support me. 

But you’re off. 

Living in you’re new world. 

And you left me here. 

How could you not see how much that affected me? 

I told you everything. 

Things no child would ever tell there parent. 

Because you weren’t my parent. 

But my best friend. 

I don’t want to remember


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I wish that I could wake up with amnesia.

I want to wake up,

And forget about the past 20 years.


I don’t want to remember,

That some of my closest friends,

Didn’t wish me a happy birthday yesterday.


I don’t want to remember,

The feeling of your fists.


I don’t want to remember,

The anger in your eyes.


I don’t want to remember,

What happened in the back seat of my car.


I don’t want to remember,

What is was like being pinned against that wall.


I don’t want to remember,

How much I loved you.


I don’t want to remember,

How much it hurt when you left.


I don’t want to remember,

What it is like,

To loose so much innocence.

At such a young age.


I don’t want to remember,

The pain that keeps me up at night.


I don’t want to remember,

The torture all of you have put me through.


I want to go to sleep a night and not remember.


I know I will loose the good times too.

But I don’t want any reminder you.


I want to rid my life of all of your existences.


I just don’t want to remember.

Do you care?


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I want to write about him.

I want to write about the way his eyes look like a brighter shade of blue,

While he’s hovering on top of me,

In a dark room.

I want to write about the way he looks at me from across the table when we’re playing pool.

I want to write about the eagerness in his face when I pull away from a kiss a little too early.

I want to write about the way he holds me when we lay on his couch.

I want to write about the way he kisses me from my lips to my thighs without me feeling uncomfortable.

I want to write about the little comments he makes when he is too scared to make a proper move.

I want to write about the way he approaches me,

And the hunger in his eyes.

I want to write about how he retrieves within himself when he is upset,

And I want to write about how all I want is for him to know I am here for him when he is upset.

I want to write about how uncomfortable silence is for him.

I want to write about how,

When he is looking into my eyes,

It is the only time the quietness is acceptable.

I want to write about how he told me he was going to miss me.

I want to write abut the butterflies he gives me,

The ones I thought turned into moths months ago.

I want to write about taste of his lips,

And how I never want to taste anything or anyone else’s ever.

I want to write about the first time he kissed me.

I want to write about the chills he sends down my spine,

When he grazes his fingers across my skin.

I want to write abut how he is the single thing I think about all day.

I want to write about the way his hands roam my body,

Like he’s never touched another human being before.


I want to write about all of these things.

and if I sat down,

and concentrated I could.


But I also want to write about how he gets excited to see me.

I want to write about how me makes stupid jokes just to see me smile.

I want to write about how he clears his schedule,

Because I only have a certain amount of time to see him.

I want to write about how he grabs my face when he kisses me,

Because he never wants to let go.

I want to write about the aggression in his voice when he tells me he loves me.

I want to write about all the sweet things he does for me,

To make sure I am happy.


But I can’t.

Because you don’t do those things.

When t comes to sex and us,

I can write for days.

But when it comes to you caring about me.

I really have to concentrate.

Because I really don’t think you do.



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I’m sitting in my car,With all the songs that remind me of you on repeat. 

Fireball running through my veins. 

You don’t know how hard it is,

To be sober, 

Knowing you’re not in my life. 

What you did wasn’t even petty. 

But just plain mean. 
I miss the sound of your voice. 

I miss your arms around me. 

But most of all I miss you. 

And god I wished you miss me too. 

But I know how replaceable I am to you. 
For ten months you owned my heart. 

You think I cut you off,

Because I blocked you on everything. 

But hun I just couldn’t stand, 

Watching you be perfectly content without me. 
You think I don’t miss you? 

Miss the way you call my name, 

Or the way your fingers trace my skin?

You’re all I think about. 

When I wake up, 

And before I go to sleep at night, 

And throughout the day. 

You’re always on my mind. 

And it’s a stab in the back. 

To know I barely run through your mind. 
You must know how hard it was. 

To watch you touch her, 

The way you touch me. 

And I know you’re not mine. 

And that we were “just friends”. 

But friends don’t feel this way for each other. 
And I know you loved me. 

You had to have. 


You ended it all the time. 

But kept coming back. 

Why was that? 

Because you missed my touch? 

Because you missed being with me? 

Because you missed the way I made you feel? 

Or was it just because you’re a teenage boy,

And wanted to get off? 

Which was it ? 

I’ve been begging to know. 

For ten months I’ve been begging to know. 
You kept saying you liked me. 

Was it all a ploy? 

Or were you just afraid to fall in love? 

I am a phase 


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I am a phase. 

I am filled with joy and happiness, 

No matter what’s happening in my life. 

So when people are down. 

They turn to me. 

For plans, 

To hang out. 

I provide a safe environment. 

They can talk about whatever,

And vent their hearts out. 
But when they have rebuilt themselves, 

From the ashes in my passenger seat. 

They believe, 

They are too good for me. 

Too good to hang out with the girl, 

Who let them breakdown in her car. 
I am a safe haven for the broken hearted, 

Lost souls who don’t feel alive, 

But merely drifting through reality. 

I have tissues, 

Sad music, 

And money for whatever their mind desires. 

I have set destinations for the late night drives, 

When they feel there is no more beauty to be seen. 

I have stories to help empathize

And advice to help sympathize. 
I am a safe.

Holding secrets for those around me. 

The same people who have left me in the dust. 

Weather they spent months, 

Or years, 

Calling me their best friend. 
Some around me say I must live for myself. 

But I believe I have a bigger purpose on this earth,

Then to only care about myself. 

I believe I was meant for rebuilding the broken. 

I have come to terms with the fact, 

That I am merely a pit stop on their journeys. 

But they don’t realize they are my story. 

Each chapter of my life is created, 

With different people needing my help. 

With each new chapter begins with being left behind, 

By the previous occupants of my time. 
“Why do you let those who hurt you back into your life?” 
Because if I didn’t. 

I would have no one. 



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I’ve never just stared at a message. 

And read it over and over. 

I’ve gotten heart stopping messages before. 

But I would just close it,

And then get emotional. 

But your message,

Just the pure lack of emotion. 
The fact that you only cared, 

If I was mad at you, 

That it didn’t matter if I was upset. 

Only if it was directed at you. 
And now I’m still sitting here, 

Reading messages. 

But they are on someone else’s phone. 

But they are about us. 

Whatever us was. 

The way you responded to your boys. 

Like I was some love sick teenager. 

Not the girl who was your best friend, 

No matter how you treated me. 

But your part in my story has ended, 

For now. 

No one deserves to be spoken about, 

In such a way, 

That they question, 

The foundation of their being. 

That they question every aspect of their life. 
How does it feel to know you are the reason,

For scars on another persons body. 

You can go talk to your boys about that. 

Just keep my name, 

Out of your mouth. 
But I do hope, 

That when you’re drunk, 

And my name keeps swirling around your head. 

You think about all things I did, 

And gave up. 

Just for you