The truth wins out

I always knew it wasn't love.

At least what you felt toward me wasn't

 

What I felt was love.

I was real.

Wasn't I?

 

Maybe I am just a selfish child.

I wanted a boyfriend.

You were more than willing to have the part.

I let you hold me and I thought...

 

I thought I knew what was happening.

I thought I was experiencing the greatest feelings possible.

The notorious romance was flying all around me and I wanted it.

Am I a tramp?

Am I a liar?

Am I an idiot?

Am I a demon?

Am I a thief?

Am I a heatrbreaker?

I've broken my own heart, I guess that counts.

 

I told you not to wait in a half-assed kind of attempt to

do the right thing.

In reality I hoped I could hide forever.

You'll forget about me and I don't get to forget.

My love thrives differently.

My pain burns differently.

My pain boils forever and always because I am a girl.

A girl never really forgets.

So I write about it,

trying to drown my memories with lexical intoxication

 

I am not so special.

I'm just like every other

Tramp

Lair

Idiot

Demon

Thief

Heartbreaker

No. I'm not so special.

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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