Three poems hardly seems like enough space to capture the ills of loving and having been loved. However poetry is meant to heal and articulate at the same time. These poems are meant to walk the reader through three different types of love. The first, love that makes you believe that the world cannot go on with out it, even though you will continue to exist, of course. The second, a poem discussing abusive relationships that manipulate you into believing their lies. And the final is about self love and the way society has spun it into the new trend. These poems are just the beginning.

Post-apocalyptic

When we talk about the end of the world

We talk in definitives

Cracked pavement

Solid things, split in two

Crumbling alleyways

Corpses so many corpses

But I wish we would start thinking a bit more abstract

Sunken eyes

Tired lies

A thoughtful realization that

Nothing matters anymore

And in fact

This is the end

Because our endings are all relative

Intertwined, maybe

But how could I be so naive to think that

The world exists in absolutes

When really it's all about perspectives

It won’t end for us at the same time

But its ending for me right now

So honestly why would anything else even matter.

You left

And when you did

My world ended

While yours began.

heavy

We tried, I guess

Define trying. If trying is grasping at my sheets while you tell me to just

Breathe.

because

I wanted so badly and for so long

To hear you tell me you love me

But once you did i could no longer

Breathe.

And your words were not soothing

They were bitter. They cut through me twinged with lemon and grime

And suddenly i hung heavier

Heavier

Like a dead body hanging after a lynching

For far too long, yet no one has taken it away.

Because some twisted mind finds solace in the swinging of the rope

We tried! We tried and now

And now your lie of love

Has rotted me down

Down

And now i float so lightly

Because the burden of trying no longer weighs me down.

And now there’s a hole where my heavy heart once was.

self

They talk about self loving

Self loathing

And i wonder how i can get in on that.

I live in shadows to everyone as they all exist so poised with love filling every crevice

And i wonder how they do, but i know that all that love had to come from somewhere

Because you can’t fill yourself with something that never existed

And so they stole that love or it was given

But either way

They talk about self love like it is easy

But all i see is self loathing masked in pretty pampered nails

And overpriced baths, steeped in glitter

Dead eyes painted over in this next layer

Of a new lover’s sorrow

Of a new lover’s burden

Of self loathing and self loving

When did they begin to mean the same thing?