poems.

to the members of my past.

sometimes
I just start to write
most of the times
I just write to avoid, cause
some topics fuck me up

like
this one kiss,
I didn't know would led to more, even though
I cried: "no."
even though
I cried

some topics like
you breaking my heart in a thousand pieces
without noticing any of that pain
pain
you cause
you breaking my heart and leaving me alone in a fucking broken home
a broken home
you caused too

sometimes
I am writing
cause talking is exhausting
like talking to you
for hours
without knowing what to say
cause at some point we changed
and you cheated on me
in every possible way
I never told you this,
but you're such a fucked up bitch,
you know that?
and I just laugh into myself, cause I feel like a goddess
since we separated

even bleeding out my pain
•feels like gold•
compared to your sense of happiness

you're a fucked up bitch
- just saying

that's why I'm writing
cause I gave my heart to you
and all my demons could remember
is the rejection I have left for myself
I don't want to be honest,
but that's why I write
I don't want to be that honest,
but I'm still the one
who sees more than
any of them would

I write to avoid topics like that
you missing every of my birthdays
since I was ten,
you never calling,
never coming back
tell me,
is there anything you regret?
cause every day
I ask myself,
if I was not worth it,
or if you all just got too blind to see
how fucking precious I am

and I'm not trying to write a text
that talks about people
who didn't show me enough love,
nor an enumeration of letters to say
how I want to love myself
please don't miss the point
I just write, just start to avoid
ironically
cause here I am telling you that I'm a mess,
even though I am not

I still can't think of any woman
but it comes to you
you know-
I'm not a mess
and rather than that
I'm absolutely not your problem,
your well-depressed friend from faraway,
I'm just someone who's hoping
that you will see some things
and won't notice some others
at the same time
don't ask
cause I won't have the answer
at least
can't explain it with words-
but offer it with my eyes
searching,
with my voice
calling,
with my hands
reaching,
with my body
talking
and my lips
yearning for more,
but please, don't ask

cause sometimes when I write
I ask myself enough
for example
how the past could happen
with me ending up here
and then again
how I could ever thought
it would lead me to somewhere else
maybe it's just about to
confuse you as much as possible,
so no one forgets to appreciate what's been given,
although I don't think this is working out very well

but I write too much
when you read this
just know that I love you,
if you don't,
be sure that I'll write a lot more
about you
just about you
and how I don't give a fuck
or how you tear me up,
how you destroyed my soul
and how much I fought to
survive all of the violence
you had left for me

be sure to hear this letter
when God is telling you
what's coming next,
be sure to cry
when you finally realize
how I really feel,
be sure to discover
that you still don't know enough from me

I will always surprise you,
I will always be better
than most would have expected,
I give more, I care more
I am more than
you made me think I am
cause calling me: "nothing",
didn't left much space to interpret

after all
its just about what I am doing with the blood
that's known as my past
it's running through my veins
leading me forward,
painting my future

after all
it's just about what I write next
and what I won't write too