Here are all those things I wished I could have said but I couldn’t and I can’t because its nasty or too nice,
You’re my friend and I’ve known you since forever but you’ve got a thing about the things you do, like art, where you are into the feel of it all but fail to go through the process- the ugly boring mind shearing process that has no poetry in it, just you and a medium; you like reading, except you never read, and love writing but without the words of others on your mind… all this is more fun to you than a expression of yourself without which your soul dies.. you love wise words but its always someone elses and your own lacks power because of your vantage point- so high off the ground you no longer know a thing about the poorer people you claim to champion, you talk about dreams but never take that step to fulfill them, its always later- when I go to uni, when I graduate, when I go back, when I work.. at least you ain’t pretentious about it but hell I wish you hadn’t given so much of your soul to that which could never feed it or let it be content.
Hey you may be a classmate from way back, and I guess I stopped talking to you cuz I felt not unwelcome but unnoticed and unseen… you live on the bright side with your self on exposure, and its like that’s all there is to you to me only that’s me being sickening and judgemental, its like the world is yours, but you are empty inside, searching perhaps for something more than just that… Hey You!
When I think of what you must think of me, I hope you think me frumpy, and messy and a little too out there with all my opinions and arguments, and a little too unaware of myself. Because that’s how I see me.
And my heartbreaks too just like yours does.
I feel sad at all that I gave you, my entire slavering soul, and yet you turned me off and away and treated me like a wall. Made of bricks with no feelings.
Made of clay.
You talked too much, a non- stop steady rumble that seemed so cool to everyone else but was so damn annoying when you grew up and your talking grew exponentially.
It hurt when you didn’t see all of which I was and didn’t have the capacity to do that and didn’t bother to try until it was pointed out to you and it took you by surprise… there’s no way you can walk without taking baby steps and somehow that idea failed you, dreams failed you…
“My dream is to have a job, any job and be successful in it.”
Perhaps it was that you’d died long ago, when you were a child. That is a life process, but only a sad soul would call that a dream.
Perhaps, what annoys me the most is how you have to be all cute and pleasing in every which way, in your words and behavior and actions as well as your looks to ever be liked, for what you do to ever be liked…
To hell with that. I have always been a woman of fire.