What was it?
What was the breaking point?
What was it that made your love turn to hate?
I gave you everything.
Now everything that made me me, is tainted by you.
You were supposed to be different.
I thought you were.
What is it about me that makes me so difficult to love?
Maybe it was never love.
Infatuation.
Obsession.
Because love can’t be that fickle?
Love can’t give up the moment things get hard. The moment you realize that people have faults.
We are only human.
I thought love was supposed to endure.
But I am not loveable. And lust only lasts so long.
Month: April 2016
NPM 19: Jumper
There was a suicide.
The trains stop running.
People crowd the platform.
A body crushed under the wheels of a speeding train.
You are selfish.
You are sad.
You are remembered as an inconvenience.
What did you want?
There’s always one this time of year, she says adjusting her sunglasses.
And it’s always during rush hour.
Impact. Significance. That’s what you wanted.
And I’m sorry this is how you had to get it.
NPM 18: Reassurance
Tell me why you like me.
Because I do.
Tell me. Tell me, please?
Tell me why you like me when I don’t even like myself?
Kiss my forehead, stroke my hair, tell me why you still put up with me.
Because you said you wanted that purse in beagle.
Because two years ago you sent me a picture of a little girl wearing a dog shaped purse and you said she looked so happy. And you asked me if you got that purse if you’d be happy.
I said yes.
And you said, I want it in beagle.
And the thought of you running around in your heels and flowy dresses wearing a dog purse to make you happy made me smile for days.
That’s why I like you.
Because you’re weird and you’re funny and you’re cute.
NPM 17: Beach Day
Does you hair just do that?
Reaching for a ringlet you stare at me like you’ve never seen a curl before.
My hair is wet and tangled from the salty ocean water.
We swam.
I made you come with me.
The ocean fills me with awe and terror.
But I did not come this far to not swim in the Atlantic.
I dragged you with me and ran into the warm water.
A weird sensation for a Chicago girl.
The Lake is never warm.
You swim.
I doggy paddle and try to stay afloat.
I start to panic about sharks and drag you to the safety of the sand.
Silly girl.
Sitting on the sand you watch my hair dry and curl and you look at me like I’m magic.
NPM 16: Love Poem 4
Come sit with me.
Just a moment.
Sit with me.
Quietly.
Just your body next to mine.
The warmth of your presence enough to soothe me.
I don’t want to talk about it.
What is there to talk about?
How do I explain that I don’t know. what’s wrong?
How do I tell you I don’t know why I’m crying?
Just sit with me and in the silence help me find peace.
The Secret Life of Pandas 