A letter to you

A poem about letting go... accepting that all love doesn't always last forever but serves to leave behind lessons...

A Letter to You

Hope made me foolish before. Fear made me crazy.

While the want of love left me vulnerable.

Dizzy in a daze and I could dance with you in my dreams.

Needed breaths replaced by kisses between you and I.

Imagine my desire. How that energy could empower the rhythmic magic that causes our hearts to beat.

Endlessly I could think of you. Lose myself in thoughts of you. The door to my heart could be slammed shut by you.

Lies. Dishonesty.

There I would be left, alone. Before I met you, that's how I vowed to be.

You see, I have experienced heart break, so I know that you could be gone one day.

The price I'd pay to have my mind altered, plans faltered.

Confusion, a mess in disarray.

Crying in the corner, rocking back and forward because I left myself open to you.

History tells me I'd need to explain to you why I can't let you in.

You say life has many meanings and is filled with complexity. However, I am a simple being.

I need someone that will love me at night when my hair isn't right. Accepts my scars the same way you would accept my smiles.

Someone that knows I hate lotion, confusion and commotion and still wants to touch my ashy skin. Simplicity.

While you're seeking perfection, I am perfectly happy with my sweat pants and tee.

Fabrics I use to shield myself from those hopelessly seeking love, those like you, those who believe.

My cover looks so slouchy and I'm not painted up properly. My GOD you won't even notice me. I indulge in invisibility.

We all once wished to have such a gift, the power to not be seen.

Hide me from the pain of having my heart shredded, this empty cavity is where painful memories are embedded.

That crushing feeling of self investing. Your all is given while they take and mentally, emotionally rape the beautiful being that once was you.

There can no longer be any misconceptions.

 

I end this letter to you with incomplete thoughts and warm regrets. Though it may be said I never said it. This letter is to you, perhaps you never read it.