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Open Poetry #12
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Carly Maas
Junior Member
since 2000-04-21
Posts 23
Garden City, MI, USA

0 posted 2001-02-16 07:05 PM


I can't recall his exact words,
No matter which way he said it,
It still would have hurt.

His purpose was to hurt me,
Whether or not it's true,
It's what he had in mind,
He did what he had to do.

He said he didn't love me anymore,
He said it was time to let go,
He said he still wanted to be friends,
While he shoved me out the door.

He made me feel really bad,
He made me want to cry,
He made me want to die,
I called him and said good-bye.

I told him how much I loved him,
I told him how I felt inside,
How he made me want to cry,
And most of all die.

I made him feel really bad,
I hope I made him cry,
I wanted to make him feel,
How I felt inside.

I think it worked,
He called back and apologized,
He said that it was true,
I told him that I didn't believe him,
And I told him we were through.


© Copyright 2001 Carly Maas - All Rights Reserved
doreen peri
Member Elite
since 1999-05-25
Posts 3812
Virginia
1 posted 2001-02-16 07:32 PM


*sigh*

one wants it, one doesn't, and then comes the change of mind where the other one wants it and the other one doesn't, and on and on we go, the circle of love and not love and not love and love and WHY is it like this? .... still after living through so much, i wonder... i really don't understand it and it isn't fair and you've written it so well here.....

JLR
Senior Member
since 2001-02-04
Posts 1785

2 posted 2001-02-16 07:42 PM


You go girl! Nice relate. Good poem.
VAS
Member Rara Avis
since 2000-11-16
Posts 7450
Oregon
3 posted 2001-02-17 01:19 AM


No one wants to be the one left...it hurts too much. And yet, the leavin', no matter who's done it results in an ending.
ethome
Member Patricius
since 2000-05-14
Posts 11858
New Brunswick Canada
4 posted 2001-02-17 01:28 AM


It's tough, but no one ever said it would be easy...but there's always sunshine after rain....this is a great write!

The poet is like a cocoon; in him the caterpillar of the past finds rest, and from him the butterfly of the future emerges.

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