sunsets after dark. | poetry collection

201. - 205

201.
I wish that in everyone new I met,
that I didn't look for you.
~E, it wasn't right of me.

202.
"I hate him."
No I don't.
I could never hate him.
Whenever I say "I hate him."
I always get brought back to the day I fell in love with him.
The way he made me feel special in the beginning.
Before everything started going downhill.
The way his eyes lit up when he talked to me about something that made him happy.
The way he made me reassured that everything was okay when he didn't talk to me for days.
The way I felt when he thanked me when he needed someone.
That was the version of him that I can never say "I hate you" to.
Not the one that made me feel
unimportant,
unneeded,
annoying,
and bothersome.
~E, a sudden change that threw me for a loop.

203.
I wish I could say I hated you.
The gruesome fearful hatred.
The one that created glares and snarling.
The one where it felt as if you deserved it.
Yet I could never bring myself to say those 3 words to you.
"I. hate. you."
When the only words that felt right
and the words that actually could slip off my tongue.
"I. love. you."
~E, this doesn't feel right.

204.
I want to be loved.
The sweet kind of love.
The love where they send you pictures of things that reminded them of you.
The love where they buy your favorite candy or drink just because.
No real reason.
Except that they love you.
The love where they send you texts saying,
"I miss you."
"I love you."
"I can't wait to see you."
The comforting kind of love.
The love where they update you throughout the day.
Where they tell you if they're busy or won't be able to text you for a few hours kind of love.
The reassuring kind of love.
The love where all we have to do is just enjoy each other's existence.
That their presence is enough, and feels enough.
The love where they bring you flowers after a long day or just because.
The love where they notice when you're not in a good mood. When you're not the you they know you as.
The "hey are you okay?" kind of love.
The love where they show you off because they are proud to call you theirs.
The love where they would choose you in every life time.
Where they want you and only you.
You're their first and only choice.
The kind of love that makes you feel loved.
I want to be loved.
~E, the goofy, clingy, and childish kind of love.

205.
"Are these about me?"
He asked me after he had read one of the poems I wrote.
The poems that I poured my heart, soul, and mind out to.
"Some are. Some aren't." I answered.
Majority were.
"I felt as if the more I wrote the more, I would keep your, our memory alive. But then I realized that the more I wrote the more I was killing myself on your memory."
~E, remorse.

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I gave up with the fonts y'all. They're so pretty and fun they just sometimes don't work. Like I tried to publish a chapter during school (don't judge me.) and it made all the previous chapters and the title of the book question marks.