Having your heart stolen. Every morning I wake up telling myself that I'm okay, that I'll find someone new. That what I had in the past was just a practice for the real deal, that there's something new in the future but the past keeps coming back. To have loved and lost is enough for others but I want to know why, why must I love only to lose? Does the pain I experience afterwards really compensate for the joy I felt? Who knew loving someone would hurt this much? Who knew love could suffocate and rip at your heart? There are times when I want to fall to my knees and break down, half screaming half asking how you could do this to me. How could you love someone else so quick, how you could forget everything, how you could not love me anymore. Sometimes I just want to scream profanity in anguish and wonder how it all happened underneath my nose. You don't miss me. You don't love me. I don't exist in your eyes. If loving was this painful, if loving was this difficult, I should've never loved you. I should've said no, I should've gone home, I should've though twice before I let it all go. I'd do anything to get that sweet, Laos boy back. The one who wrote my love notes, the one who sincerely loved me, the one who promised me the moon and stars and back. I should've never asked him to change. It's all my fault. Why do I take the blame? Why am I the miserable one? It's because I loved. I believed your words, your promises that you'd never leave me, that our love was forever. That we would be eternity.
What happens to a dream deferred?
It rots. It flakes and crusts as pus surfaces from within. It becomes a haven for maggots. In and out the little worms go. The once oh so beautiful dream I once had. Deferred, beaten, and dead. And with time it will turn into dust and blow away with the wind.
I, too, sing hope.
I am the darker one.
You send me to the corner,
When she comes,
But I smile,
And turn away,
And cry in the dark.
Tomorrow,
I'll stand in front of the world,
When she comes,
Nobody will dare steal my glory,
Then.
Besides,
One day you'll see how beautiful I am
And be ashamed--
I, too, am you.
If I must die--let it not be like hogs
Beaten and scorned in an inglorious spot,
While round me bark the mad and hungry bitches,
Making their mock at my accused lot,
If I must die -- oh,let me nobly die,
So that my precious blood may not be shed
In vain; then even the ogres we defy
Shall be constrained to honor me though dead!
Oh love! I must meet the common foe;
Though far outnumbered and battered, let me show I am brave,
And for their thousand arrows of toxic deal one deathblow!
What though before me lies the open grave?
Like-wise I'll face the murderous, cowardly pack.
Pressed to the wall, dying, but fighting back!
If he changed for the better than is it better that he stopped being the boy who wrote love notes, stopped being the one who would hold me on those cold nights, stop wiping away my tears but most importantly he stopped loving me so he could love you. So it is better, for you but not for me.
