the poetry book I never wrote

poetry I've written throughout college and the years following.

Say It

the feeling I get when I dial a number on a telephone,

anxiously awaiting an answer,

and the way I feel after our conversation when I asked you about our future,

suddenly feel the same,

and with each ring I know that I'm approaching the end of the call,

when the voicemail comes and I'm faced with a decision,

to leave a message or hang up the phone,

the same way I know that within your hesitation,

there is an answer

Who Cares?

When I keep giving away parts of myself it is no wonder that I can never feel whole.

I think the part of myself that wants to keep giving realizes that soon enough there won't be anything to give.

This is what happens when you let selfish people in,

they take from you fully knowing your intentions are pure and lead you to believe that they are the same.

They spend all of their time convincing you that they're invested and aren't playing games,

and then the façade begins to fade.

You'll start to see them for who they really are and not the person they portrayed.

They told you all of these sweet things that must be true because they said them as they were lying next to you.

The only thing people want to do is leave before they get left because all our generation cares about is who could care less.

If you're someone looking for substance or something with meaning,

you're better off keeping to yourself than falling for someone who will only end up leaving.

I Wish I Was the Sunset

I care to be admired the way that people admire the sunset. The way that someone could be having a conversation with another person and stop mid conversation to say, "The sunset looks so beautiful tonight." They might even snap a photo to remember the moment.

I would also want to be the sunset, but for a very different reason. The sunset never asks for attention, but it demands to be seen. It looks beautiful whether people notice it or not. It's there, it's bright, it's big and bold, and it's saying, "I'm here and I'm beautiful, regardless if you look at me or not."

Liar, Liar, Tongue on Fire

The next time you lie to someone I hope it feels like fire on the tip of your tongue.

I hope my memory burns in the back of your brain and I hope that you'll correct yourself.

If you do manage to tell a lie or two, I hope that the next girl isn't as quick to believe you.

She'll see the red flags that I ignored and takes them as a sign to run.

I hope you're never able to get to her.

Better yet, I hope you find a girl that's so perfect in all of her ways.

I hope she tells you sweet lies and I hope you believe them.

She'll make you look back in regret and you'll think that this is your karma.

Your feelings for her will scare you and make you second guess trusting someone like her again.

I hope your heart aches with sadness at the thought of what could've been.

And yet, I hope that you never experience any of this at all because I've experienced it first hand.

I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy, even if my worst enemy is you.