Funny how we always end up here.

I fight the feeling to write about you, another sappy poem

about this love and lusting..nope. Not until

I check out your stuff and make sure that you are

writing about me too.

you’re not.

I’m always right, because I already knew that

and it isn’t right, but who am I..right? Just the

next name on your list of perpetrators, I suppose

that you are waiting for me to hurt you too, except my

hurt would consist of not accepting you while you drag

me down with you, my stability is always shaky now, but why?

who cares, though–because your easily concocted answer will

always be “well I didn’t ask you to”. True.

what the fuck am I doing?

I’m scratching my head in confusion,

is it my mind I’m losing?

My optimism escaping me.

I love you.

Do you even want me to?

maybe this is what Karma couldn’t wait to show me

My old chicks voices in my head saying

“one day Kymmie, your games will leave you lonely.”

Exactly where I am headed now, and that’s okay but my

heart won’t let me go in peace.

My questions wake me up at night, hoping that maybe you’d

give me some sort of recognition, maybe something saying

“You know I wouldn’t want to lose this.”

but that will never happen, because you’re too busy writing about your exes

checking your text messages

complaining about the date and time we had a conversation

On instragram straight flexin’ (lol)

Damn, girl, you are giving me no choice but to keep stepping

and trust me, that’d be something to lose..

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