Coping Still

And if I had stayed,
I'm not entirely sure where I'd be coming
home to.
If your lap would become rest stop
for my head,
would your fingers travel through my hair
a map made by tangles, the way they did
the first night I kissed you?

Were we really like that once?

And if I had stayed,
would that home be welcoming?
Would I not miss you the way I do now,
except be physically closer?
Would you leave the sound of lasers and
boss levels to stay with me until I slept?

But I didn't stay.
And lately I miss you more than less.
But I don't regret leaving,
because in the process,
I reclaimed myself.

So I'll stay lonely.
And the questions can remain unanswered.
It hurts, but it's truly for the best.

7/5

Today,
I miss you a little extra
and I let it get the best of me.

I try writing out
these messages,
but they come off as poetry.
I unblock you from all social media
and your number from my phone.
I don’t let my fear of getting yelled at
conquer me.

I preference everything I say about you with
“He is really is a good person”
because you really could be,
you really are.

I don’t hate you,
instead I miss my best friend,
and I’m seeing now that for a while
those are not the same person.
Just like I’m not.

I know sometimes people change
or everything remains the same
and you grow to the point where nothing
really stays,
and you blame your mistakes
your mourning
on something else instead of
simple facts like:

I miss you.
But that’s not enough.

Shadow Self

This time hurts more
than the first.
You can celebrate that small
victory.

I miss ______
more now than I did then.

I miss my confidence,
and my laughter.
I missed the faces I’d make without
second question.

I miss feel worthwhile
or interesting
or even like somebody
other people want to talk to:
not vent to or hook-up
with.

I miss being a person
rather than a body;
I’m tired of dressing a certain way
to make myself feel
pretty.

I don’t think I am
pretty.

That’s a shot at my ego
that shouldn’t matter as much,
but—

Today a crush
asked about some girl
who’s your typical
definition of American’s
sweetheart mixed with
perfection….

and you knew,
for sure this time,
you’d never be the one.
By “you”, I mean “I”,
I’m still trying not to be sad
about it,
but sometimes

this weather cloys the air
until all I want to do is
sleep
and wake up and you,
yes you,
be there and apologize
that I’m having a bad dream.

Like that would fix everything.
Like you’d try this time to fix
anything.

Most of all,
I miss my sense of self,
my pep talks,
the security in my being
knowing who I was,
who I am
is good and
enough.

I made some people
laugh today.

That is the only thing
I am capable of
that makes me feel like
me.

Disjointed

You let me sit in your car;
and I know I did it just to be near you.

And we listened to the random songs
you played off your phone
and I felt myself
sinking into your
passenger seat
so that way something that belonged to you
would know the feel of me.

And after all this time,
I still shouldn’t be looking for someone like you.

I know that.
I know I matter even less than
a little bit.
I know if you were to keep up
with the number of poems
I have written with you in mind,
you’d be sick of it.
(And that’s not counting
the alternate realities I’ve made;
but I always kept you “taken”,
out of respect
for your relationship.)

I’m finding the irony
that Tracy Chapman was playing
and “Fast Car” hits me
like piano on my chest
in the key of “K”:
A note that doesn’t exist.

Like our relationship
that never was.

But just so they know
all the smiles just might be fake——
for the times she said
I have low self-esteem
for the way I’ve deemed myself
not worthy of respect
but rather hands all over
and smoke-filled haze,
know I am still willing
to be at your feet
if it means I can somehow stay.

If it means that once again
we are the fitting pieces
to each other’s crazy.
If it means somehow,
there is once again
a you
and a me——

I’m still trying to figure out
my reason
for waiting.

Outta My Head

Don’t
go through this again.
Don’t
think about the
brown eyes
or the brown hair
or the fact that he is also someone
you work with.
Don’t compare
what you can’t have to
to one you couldn’t have
never had
but still lost.

Don’t get inside of your head.

Don’t
blink back tears.
Don’t
cry over memories.
Don’t
think he thinks of you.
Don’t
wonder if he does.
Don’t
let him consume your thoughts.

Don’t get inside of your head.

Do
realize you deserve better.
Do
understand “patience is a virtue”.
Do
celebrate every step of the journey.
Do
realize healing is day-by-day process.
Do
take risks.
Do
trust they aren’t all one way.
Do
love again.

Don’t get inside of your head.