He Loves Me Not by NeverAshamed

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

I wrote this after I broke up with my boyfriend of 5 months. If anyone's actually reading this and you slightly give a damn, you're probably thinking "bitch your 14, you cant be in love" and I wasnt, and its not that at all. Thats why he was so special to me.

This empty pill bottle seals my only fate, and these scars on my body show I’m just a fake.
I’m not good enough now and I know I wasn’t before, that’s the way it was when you drank even more.
I noticed today that it’s too dull of a knife, and what you didn’t know, I’ve tried to kill myself twice.
A stomach full of pills and a mouth full of lies is my only escape from this world I despise.
Because of you I was happy; because of you I’m alive. You stopped me from committing my suicide.
But now that you’re gone I don’t know what to do. I’m at a fucking loss because of what I miss in you.
I’ve been called an asshole; I’ve been called a whore. You told them to be quiet and loved me more.
I know that now I’m alone because I fucked up, I’m so sorry babe, but make your own luck.
It turns out you lied, and you’re nothing but a prick. You said you’d love me forever but that didn’t stick.
You know I’m not mad, I’m just really pissed, now I see the real you that before I had missed.
You cheated and lied with drugs up your sleeve. I know I’ll never miss you so just go ahead and leave.
So go fuck yourself, and please, burn in hell. You asked for pictures; this is not show and tell.
He can beg to come back but I won’t give a shit. I’ve been lied to enough, I was told he had quit.
Apparently not, you still deal all the time. I know you’re not perfect and not a man dime.
Just don’t under estimate how smart I can be. I know that you never gave a damn about me.
I’m sorry I’m a reckless god damn son of a bitch. Did you honestly think this would heal with a stich?
I tear my heart open, and sew myself shut. Stiches stop the bleeding but this is more than a cut.
It is a battle wound of a fucked up life that is soon to be ended with the blade of a knife;
The knife that I sharpened, and sharpened some more, because it was too dull when I tried it before.
Cuts line my ankle, hip, thigh, and wrist. You said it is because of the help I resist.
I don’t need to talk about it, fuck that. I’m fine. It’s not like I’m pregnant, and get high all the time.
Living in a world where I’m afraid to show pain and all the hopes of a youth deemed fucking insane.
It’s hard to feel courage, and I fear to feel pride in these two worlds that are bound to collide.
So I pick my pills from the counter drawer, and pick my self-esteem up off the fucking floor.
I’m sorry that it had to happen, but it hurt me too. Three entire months ago, remember?
I loved you.


Submitted: June 25, 2011

© Copyright 2021 NeverAshamed. All rights reserved.

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Comments

Brian W

Another great poem....This shows the strong side of you...you have good flow and rhyme in your poems they come from inside you.....I like your poetry style...

Fri, July 8th, 2011 1:07am

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Brian, your comments and compliments mean so much to me. It's because of people like you that I'm still alive. Beleive me, I am not joking about that.

Thu, July 7th, 2011 6:33pm

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