good things end {camp poems}

imaginary angry conversations in my head

stupid poems that don’t rhyme

he’s going out with her and that shouldn’t hurt

this place isn’t home but I don’t miss mine

I ache for people who are going away

and a feeling of belonging even though I won’t stay

good things end

that’s the lesson I’ve learned

if I get cut open enough times

will it cease to bleed

not sure what I want

no clue what I need

playing a game

to catch the pitying eyes

I despise the way they look at me

love the way it makes me feel

making the same mistakes

over and over

I can’t help myself

i’m hurting me as much as he is

but he’s easier to blame

running to momma feels weak

so I cry on the back steps and write it all out

I push away hoping

that someone will chase me down

and it hurts worse than ever

because no one does

don’t they get it

I want to be pulled unwillingly into arms will hold me securely

a prison would feel safer

than this free fall i’m trapped in

I am worth nothing if I am not broken

so I paint battle scars on my arms and pretend

the lie is that I need them

and the truth is boring

please don’t walk away

I scream it silently

they don’t hear me shatter

because what I say out loud is go away

and they do

how do I expect to win

what was the goal in the first place

I’ve lost sight of it and adopted the rage

that was supposed to be false

why do I feel like i’m living life in an endless loop

I wanted him to care

to notice

to follow through and do what he said he would

but no

he forgot

became someone else

the one I don’t like

the plan in my head paints me witty and smooth

reality is a horrifying mirror that only tells the truth

I am clumsy and small, angry at nothing

consumed by my self-obsession and unpredictable in my flailing attempts to win the love I so desperately want

I ruined it didn’t I

I smashed the perfect daydream with my sharp words

intended to intrigue

I came off too strong again

and my gentle nudge was a right hook to the jaw

I am a pendulum that got broken

swinging without predictability or rhythm

my plans scrawled out in red ink

it is over

I tried too hard

to be something i’m not

he said we would talk!

and then he didn’t even try

that’s how I see things, but to him, it is miniscule

I don’t matter

i’m just a way to make him feel good about himself because he fixed another broken toy

don’t play the game, kate

do not engage

do you want to get hurt again?

this is the time to slam the door shut and keep it that way

summer is almost over and he ignores you most of the time anyway

quit living for the five minutes he manages to spare you out of pity

you’re better than that

real friends try harder