Email Poem

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Personal Note:

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Poem

Have you ever felt the broken guitar string, and the way it slices veins? The words 
that 
slither from your lips cut and make me bleed just the same.  As it slips into your 
mouth 
you savour every droplet on your many tongues. Before I turn to leave, you kiss 
my wound 
and breathe smokeless love into my lungs. 

You’re just not it love with me, but its not something I claimed to be. I hate to hear 
the girls that scream, “he’s just not that in love with, just not that in love with you. 
Go on sweetie, find someone new.”

Everything I saw him touch turned to glass and cracked under his weight. Broken 
promises 
swung under his words that we’d meet again by fate. I loved him for his messy 
hair, the 
words that spilled from his mouth, he was my anarchist. I should have known it 
could 
never last when I tasted poison on his kiss. 

You’re just not it love with me, but its not something I claimed to be. I hate to hear 
the girls that scream, “he’s just not that in love with, just not that in love with you. 
Go on sweetie, find someone new.”

You love from your oleander heart, tainted by your pastel poison. I wish someone 
had 
warned of the pain before I let it begin. Dripping into my bloodstream is the pulse 
of 
my regrets. I hate the day you said good bye, but I know I’ll never forget.

You’re just not it love with me, but its not something I claimed to be. I hate to hear 
the girls that scream, “he’s just not that in love with, just not that in love with you. 
Go on sweetie, find someone new.”

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