Unwritten Crazy

So I bet you think I’m crazy?

The amount of times I say this in one day is unhealthy

So I guess I’ve never been your baby

 

But I have been yours,

That possessive noun is one of your best weapons

Aimed above my heart, you would think me one of your w****s

 

As if the blade is magnetic

It draws me in, as I seem to find this sick twisted game to be poetic

You are no longer a man but a hissing snake in a tree proding me to pick the apple

Justifying your intentions, convinced in a dark world you’re the only lighted chaple

Enticing me,

Encomassing me,

Entangling me,

Ensnaring me,

The twinkle in your eyes so mystifying, I fail to see you have always been glaring at me

 

Head poised and lingering on every constructed word to bounce off your graceful tongue

All the air in the world couldn’t fill me, it’s as if I only had one lung

 

I wish I could rewind the day I began to interpret your self-entitlement to be appropriate

What morning did loving me become a memory and I became nothing but an associate

 

Its as if you were some sort of prophet

Uncontrollable shaking

Incessant aching

Feeling as if you are breaking

As if you have a right to discredit my anxiety attacks, it’s not fun to have to say:

I’m sorry I just lost it

 

I wish I could collect all the unsent letters, texts, phone calls, thoughts, poems, and prayers

I’d put them all in a bottle float them down some random river

Because then maybe they would find a person who cares

Author's Note

Still needs some work