I’ve loved you
And hated you
I missed you
When we stopped talking
But the thing is
I missed you more
When we were talking
And I don’t understand
How that is possible.
You were never all the way there.
Whenever I heard about you
I would perk up,
Like a puppy
Running to the door
With yipping barks,
Undaunted admiration.
No longer do I answer
To your every whim
I show no response,
When the syllables
That form your name
Are uttered into the open air,
Hanging their,
Like an uncomfortable chill.
You are a piece of glass
Shattered, into so many pieces,
Beaten and ground down
That you turn to sand.
I tried to be feminine
Soft and caring
Letting you mold me
Into what you needed.
My body was an hourglass
Trying to hold you, the sand.
Every time the tides turned
I would be spun upside down
And like a literal hourglass
Full of sand
You’d escape the other way.
Constantly running out of time
And your mental balance
Constantly lapsing at the shore
Between sanity and insanity.
You were electricity,
Running through my veins
Making me into a time bomb.
Anyone who would come in contact
Would experience the frazzling shock
Of my touch.
You are a moth light
Drawing in confused butterflies
Never being able to see the beauty
In their own wings,
You reflect light then kill and destroy
The beauty with your intensity.
You leave a path of destruction
Behind you
For all you come from is pain
You were born,
From burnt charred remains
Of broken dreams
And physical lust
Forced and bandaged into a family.
Your values are as frayed
As my favorite shirt
Gone through dozens of washing cycles.
You were everything
Yet you are as insignificant
As any analogy
My battered brain
Can string together
With my welding and melting,
Of the English language.
No longer do I idolize you.
No longer do I worship
The ground you trod on
For you do not stop
To view the dandelions
You do not admire the flowers
You pluck them up with childish hands
And rip the petals away
Finding no beauty
In the wilted stems your hands leave.
In trying to even the petals out
Trying to perfect things
That were already astonishing
You destroyed everything
And threw them back into the dirt.
The amazing thing about dandelions though
Is that they grow back with a vigor
And that’s what I’m doing now.
Without your hulking shadow
Leering into my thoughts
I am growing and blooming.
People may say that dandelions are weeds
But they are what you blow on for wishes,
Make flower crowns from
And they are ever so strong.