That guy's girl

December 04, 2017

This is a poem about an emotionally abusive relationship I was in for two years. This is the first time I'm sharing my poetry other than just open mic nights or friends. I need motivation to write more!


You Don’t Want to Be Weird, Now Do You?

I used to soar on your livewire
And feel like I could walk on water
But one day I couldn’t walk anymore and I just sank
And the shock of the livewire and the water shocked me

It brought me back to a place of clarity
The clearest tragedy
Became a reality

Not only did I have to consider what was my reality
But what did I want my reality to be

Did I want it for you or for me?
Since when did pleasing you become my reality?
The bane of my existence and simultaneously the reason for my existence
I thought, what would happen if my wildest dreams realized and this all went away?

What would I realize with real eyes
That I could live in a world where my spirit flies
To where I want to be, I see what I want to see
Not what you’ve painted for me

Because the day came where the watercolor lines so you meticulously painted for me blended into the others and not in that
Impressionistic, artistic way visually pleasing to the eye
It may have been pleasing for him, or equally as unpleasing, I wouldn’t know

And the day came where the colors faded
Where the colors once so bright
Bright as it was when you first dabbed it on your palette
Faded away, and there were no more fun and games
The colors were as bleak as the feelings I had remaining

Nothing was remaining but the engine kept turning
Running on fumes
Gears grinding
tensions rising
The engine wouldn’t turn over
Because it was over and neither of us would admit it

I couldn’t admit it to myself because I was taught that
ladies are to be seen and not heard
An antiquated thought, though it sounds absurd
was bestowed upon me as a compact I had to base my life on

I had to tip toe around everything and do it in a ladylike fashion that was
visually pleasing to the eye and not in that impressionistic, artistic way
that’s too weird
and you don’t want to be weird, now do you?

Then, I realized that this lady wanted to be both seen and heard
She had something to say, actually a lot of things to say
She didn’t realize how much she had to say until she started writing this

This lady, finally, one day was both seen and heard
She stopped caring about what he thought and what they thought and what she thought and what
She made her voice loud and clear and now her world is crystal clear
her spirit flies, she has real eyes, and won’t listen to any lies
especially not from you.


Do you write poetry regularly? I haven't written in years, this is an old piece. What do you all do for motivation?




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