You're a poet? Your mind must be so fucked up | Poetry.

This is what they gave you.

Pretty girl, do you love her? She loves you, she loves you with her everything and she wants to hold you close,
No one can help you like she can, she's here to fix you.
That's what a lover is for right? To pull you through the fire, help you learn to trust and want and love.

She does it. She fixes the hurt inside you like she promised to right when she kissed you the first time, when all the fantasies in your head became a reality and, for a second, everything was right. When there were fireworks and crackers and bright lights and all was good. You could have been falling off the edge of the world but you just wouldn't care, because all was good.

And it really is like the movies. The beautiful days and romantic nights. The fancy dinners at the high end restaurants and the roses that cost way too much and the secrets whispered in hushed voices under the covers at 3am. It really is.

And the rain pours down upon you and your makeup runs as you kiss but it's okay because you're in a movie and they always end happy, they have to; with a beautiful wedding and gorgeous children.

And affection wasn't a thing back home, no one showed you affection because it made you weak and pathetic to want hugs unless they were from a boyfriend that you just didn't want.

She holds you like she wants to fix every broken piece inside you.
As if one embrace can fix all the wrongs,
That she can teach you to love like they do in the songs.

Right?

But somehow her hands are too tight, lips too harsh, she's too close.
Her hands aren't on your hips anymore. They're too low, too low to be comfortable.
But you let her, because she does this so you stay together.

The compliments stop. They become harsh words hissing off her tongue and spitting into the air like venom.
But you let her, because she's just a bit annoyed. She's annoyed that Friday when you don't go out for your reservation at the high end restaurant. She's annoyed when you buy her the roses that cost way too much and she's annoyed when you try to whisper secrets in a hushed voice at 3am.

But with every lie about the bruises on your arms,
You start to question whether the movies were right.
Because this isn't what they showed you on a silver platter,
This is what they gave you.

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Uploads will in no way be often, I'll just post poems when I write them.
Opinions on this one? I don't actually mind it.

- Ash