pieces of me: poems

piece fourteen

I was a control freak.

I liked when things stayed the same

since switching it up meant change.

Whenever the bright sun vanished,

a cold storm came rolling in,

its dark clouds sweeping the light away,

and freezing my heart into solid ice.

I never liked to work in a team

since I could only see the letters "M" and "E".

Whenever I'd let someone catch me

when I was falling to the ground, about to shatter,

I always slipped like ice through their fingers,

then started to believe that I just didn't matter.

But when I was sixteen,

someone finally caught me.

His touch was warm, melting my heart like a flame brought to ice.

I was finally reminded

that even someone as cold as me

could maybe be loved that easily.

I only knew him by his name,

his chestnut-brown hair, and piercing ice-blue eyes, but

the more we crossed paths when I didn't think we would,

the more we were at the right place at the right time,

the more we talked as if nobody else understood us,

the more I believed in this concept called "destiny."

Because though we were still strangers to each other,

I felt safe melting into his touch;

I felt safe letting him into my life without an invitation;

I felt safe losing control.

It felt as if I was the main character

in a movie that I didn't know I had auditioned for,

and he was the new love interest

that I couldn't resist.

I suddenly felt special,

starring in a film

where I'd get a happily ever after;

where I'd text him with a smile;

where he'd respond immediately,

and soon,

we'd have plans

for the upcoming weekend.

But this wasn't like the movies.

Because as I waited for a reply,

my heart began to thrum in my chest,

like a drum beating a symphony of nerves.

Because as I waited for a reply,

every bad outcome played in my mind on a loop.

Because as I waited for a reply,

my hope slowly faded,

until I realized that he'd never answer.

My heart eventually stopped beating,

falling to the ground and shattering.

Because why had he ignored my messages

as if I wasn't good enough for him?

Wasn't I beautiful? Wasn't I smart?

Wasn't I someone that he'd want to know better?

After all, I was the main character,

and he was the new love interest,

not the boy who rejected me

the first minute he could.

My veins burned with heartache,

as if I'd been stabbed with a syringe,

its venom poisoning my body

with reasons to give up.

Was it so wrong to believe that this was my story,

my plot,

my life,

and I wanted it to be the way I had planned it?

But it wasn't.

Because so what if I'm a control freak?

So what if I like when things stay the same

since switching it up means change?

Whenever the bright sun vanishes,

a cold storm comes rolling in,

its dark clouds sweeping the light away,

and freezing my heart into solid ice.

But this eye-opening experience

Has taught me that none of us

are the main characters in a movie

with our storylines mapped out.

Destiny is only a word that

encourages us to go after what we want,

encourages us to burn the scripts we feel forced to act out,

encourages me to take control

and be the flame

that will melt my heart of solid ice.

4.3.2023