TrashCanPoems

It said.

I wish you were sitting on my face rn.

I was in his bed.

He took me out to dinner and showed me that birthdays can be good.

He then hung out with her that Friday and I know he’s lying.

The worst part?

The love of my actual life tried so hard for my birthday this year.

I turned him away to find out this.

I knew there was a catch on my birthday.

I’m Devastated.

Hi I’m sam.

I’m loud, I’m known for that.

I’m known for being that overly happy, over dramatic, animated, and loud.

I’ve been told my laugh makes other people laugh, or that they’re laughing at my laugh.

Which is understandable, sometimes

But sometimes, sometimes I speak and my voice is stuck in my mouth.

I try to speak up and speak out, but it gets caught behind my teeth.

I often wonder why if that’s why I have so many cavtivies.

I stutter over T’s and stammer over M’s.

But.

Sometimes, I let out words to say something funny, while I choke down my real voice.

Sometimes my real voice slips out and says “I’m fine,” Followed by nihilistic humor only so the I’m fine still sounds like me.

I’m not actually that loud, I always say.

Then I get “the look”; it’s fine I’m used to it.

Just like I’m used to being called overly happy, overly dramatic, and animated.

As if I’m not all of those thing to try to drown out the sadness.

And my voice gets stuck in my mouth often.

And my loud laugh doesn’t cover up that I cry a lot.

Hi, I’m Sam.

Your breath fed the fire that lead me here.

Forever forged in fire.

Rather, Fires.

I was iron ore, you?

Them?

Carbon.

I never even felt the heat that could make someone so cold.

But strong.

Normally iron ore only needs less than one percent carbon.

I feel as though I got more.

Maybe ten percent?

Ironically, what scientifically should make me stronger has made me feel weaker.

Blast furnace after blast furnace.

A tendency to fall for blacksmiths.

Strong hands that feel the need to mold and change shape no matter how dirty or burned they get.

Master manipulators.

Burning red with rage; You turned me into a sword then were angry when you fell on my blade.

Making myself strong enough to protect myself.

So I burn bright orange with rage and the fact I am made of steel, I melt.

I strike myself over the anvil.

I wrap myself in steel sheets, turning myself into a safe.

Then he came along.

Ready to pick a lock.

A locksmith not a black smith.

His tool kit isn’t what broke the lock.

It was his breath when he said my name.

The walls around me oxidized.

My walls started to rust.

He pointed to the patterns and told me it was beautiful.

My walls crumbled.

Then I realized I was never a safe.

Or in a safe.

I was never just steel or a sword.

I turned into a prison.

His breath fed no fires.

He was just a simple lock smith freeing a prisoner.

I never knew how much I loved myself until the way he said my name.

Feel it. Then move on.

If it’s more than 5 minutes, address it so it isn’t something petty that comes up in five years.

Address it and move on.

I sometimes stop myself and look for you.

Most of the time, I run.

I feel that burning sensation in my heart.

It travels to my eyes and my salty tears feel like acid.

I cry.

Tear Gas Cologne.

It’s all fun and games,

Until you realize you are one.

Best friend:my sister.

Her best friend’s boyfriend leaves now.

At 1:10a.m

I tell them how sad it must be to never have loved deeply.

Me: I’m sick of hearing that. I love my self. I love myself immensely. I know I insult myself daily, but that’s because I have to. To defend myself from people like you. You not loving me isn’t what hurts. What hurts is I know my fucking worth and yet no one sees it. I’ve been to hell and back and still have the capacity to love like I’ve never been broken. I still try. I tell my story not as some sad sparrows song, but the shriek of a falcon. With broken wings, I can still fly. Fuck the you need to love your self first shit, I learned to a long time ago. Explain to me why after loving myself, why does this still happen?

That’s the things about liars.

You learn to listen for what they don’t say, not what they say.

It’s amazing how the truth screams from silence.