Jordi Marie

Wishing you would have told me sooner.
Here, losing my mind, feels somewhat pleasant.
Still got your keys, packed them away.
I found your old baseball cap you used to wear.
I put it in a box I’ve designated for you.
I painted a black X on it so I wouldn’t forget.
I found your cologne. I put it on the bottom of the box.
I held your shirt close to my heart before I tossed it aside.
Tossed it aside, like you did to me, tossed it aside…

I found some of our old pictures.
I wanted to rip them up, but I couldn’t.
I saw your face and I cried. I cried. Then I sobbed.
I couldn’t believe that I remembered every arch
Of your face, every wrinkle on your forehead when
You laughed. I was horrified at what my mind could recall.
Then I realized how god damn much I loved you.
We looked so happy, us two, and I wouldn’t forget.
Your nose met mine, my eyelashes gave you butterfly kisses,
I kissed your lips like it would be the last time. The last time.
I told myself I would be better off. I was so convinced
Until you walked out the door.

I packed up your things that I bet you’ve forgotten about.
You left, so fast. So fast. I bet you wouldn’t care about
Taking the gold watch I bought you for Christmas.
I bet, even, that you’d be fine without it. Without me.
I knew you wouldn’t care about half of these items.
I hoped you’d remember the feather rose you bought me
On Valentine’s day. I wish you’d recall the cards I made
You on special occasions. And though I knew you
Wouldn’t recall a thing, I smile and nod. I pretend.
I say, “Oh yes! We weren’t really meant to be…”

I sleep all day now. I wait for the moon and sun to rise and fall.
I feel like I’ve been waiting all of my life. All of my life.
I sit on my bed, sipping tea. Then I lie down and take a nap.
I feel peaceful, for once, because I’m lost to the world of dreams.
And because, really, it’s you I see there.
I wait in a cold, dark room to feel something again.
I yearn for the moments I’ll feel real once more.
I set aside your box of things, making sure it’s out of sight.
As much as it makes me angry that you couldn’t care
Less about them, I still cry and cry, sob and sob. Waiting.

I sometimes wonder what would have happened
If you stayed and I loved you till the end.
I sometimes wonder what would have occurred if
I told you, with certainty, that I would have never left you,
Tossed you aside, or let you feel uneasy.
I sometimes wonder what would have happened
If I expressed my deepest secrets and left them for you to
Judge or cherish within your heart.
Sometimes turns to into eternity, as I will forever wonder.

Wishing you would have told me sooner.
Here, losing my mind, feels somewhat pleasant.
Still got your keys, packed them away.
As the tea runs cold by my bedside every night,
I know damn well that you’re never coming back.
Never coming back.

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jordi marie mywriting love heartbreak moving out

Passion erupts; since then, I have dissolved.
Passion erupts; and now, I have fled.

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mywriting

Maybe this shit existence is all a dream,
A nightmare. And I’m stuck in it, unable to wake up.
Wake me; wake me, please. I need to feel,
I want you to know I’m here.

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mywriting lonely dreams nightmares love

High School was the villain, the devil
Who shunned away the existence of baby dolls,
Innocent park swings, and cheek kisses.
Instead, we see the introduction of cigarette
Smoke, French kissing, and dishonest
Friendships, bullying, hitting, the struggle to
Succeed, the looming presence of next year’s
Entrance into college. And we feel the tension
Of forgetting one’s locker combination for the
First time, getting hit by the volleyball in gym,
Feeling so ridiculously unworthy of your
Number one crush, which you realize, innocently,
That you would kill for and desire till the end of time,
It seems, although it isn’t that way. One never
Realizes the lousy, ridiculous form of lust that comes
With the first assumption that one is in love. A
First crush, oh how spell binding! Little Jane, still
Little, of course, still unaware of the world ahead.
So oblivious to the idea that high school is only
The beginning, only the start to what one could
Call the experience of life. And so much time
Is always wasted wondering why she could
Not be prettier, act differently, see that
Jenni, the most popular, was sore and weak.
The perils of judging one’s self eventually
Passes, and becomes null, turns into confidence
And glowing passion. From the age of twelve
To the age of seventeen, Little Jane becomes only
Jane and “Mama!” morphs into the devil; “Papa!”
Is suddenly the ignorant being, the one who
Believes that Jane hasn’t been kissed, or given
A hickey in the back of a van out in the school
Parking lot. “Oh Rick,” her mother said, “Are you
Truly that naïve?” And she laughs, slaps her knee,
And watches Jane stomp, slam her door, throw her
Hairbrush at the bathroom mirror. The attitude is
Overwhelming and destructive, something that her
Mother and father understand, but cannot accept.
And those days, where her crush wouldn’t pick up
The phone to call, look her way, pair up with her for
A project – all those moments, the ones that leave Jane in
Tears, in torment. The moments, the fragments of
Times that she would soon forget in her next
Phase of life. Oh, high school, such a precious little
Thing, she thinks now, and an entire waste of the
Feelings of worthlessness.

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girl high school life love poetry teenagers mywriting

Love is the most powerful of all human emotions. There is nothing to argue here. It makes you feel happy, depressed, disappointed, sad, delicate, confused, unworthy then worthy, haunted, and horrified. In fact, love controls all other emotions. Without its existence, we would seize to truly live.

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love mywriting

The shadows followed us home.

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mywriting

Sometimes thy wishes are as
Sweet as sin,
Cold like ice, burning like fire.
Through and through
They go, round and round
They travel. The grand feeling
Of having one love thee
To an extent so pure, so moving,
It seems horrifying, and daunting
All at once. Please, please,
Pretty please, I pray, I want nothing
But the feeling of you, the
Thought of you, every part
Of you, every minute that
You’re in, every second
That you exist.
I want it to be
Mine.

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jordi marie love lust quotes romance sad wishes writing mywriting

Always remembered -
But the beauty of a memory is that it cannot be relived.

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Jordi marie memory quotes mywriting

We all know that
Wishes just fade
With the extinguished
Fire on the candle,
The passing of 11:11
And with the cracking
of a bone.

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wish mywriting

In fiction, there is truth.

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fiction quote truth mywriting

On days
I think about
You and I
I wonder why
The hell
I even tried.

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love relationships mywriting

He. He leads to my innocence, my loss of it, the way I cherish it now more than ever. He. What a word – so powerful, so selfish, so keen on weakening my soul, my being. He is the holder of all things that create me. I have been unravelled before him. My body is a museum, an art piece. He stares and watches it like a painting. He discovers what is different from other paintings, links it to other writings, and responds to it by thinking critically. This way of thinking occurs solely in his mind – his throne – and I am clueless of it, wondering for days, for weeks, for months, why his point of view is so desperately important.

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he heartbreak him love relationships thoughts mywriting

It was a terrifying kiss. A first kiss. One that you could never get back.

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first kiss kiss love nothing but a story quotes relationships mywriting

This shall be an ancient tale – one kept especially for thee.
Though life it contains, it follows the lives of the dead,
The dead – so beautiful, as though a piece of cursed art.
They feed, they devour, they parch themselves of thirst.
Yet only by the light of the sun will they rest,
Surrounding all - the dead, the alive, the unknown.
A working man will work; a tiny child will run,
And the undead will wake at the light of the moon,
Saying “Curse this cursed life!”
Upon the aura of the misty blue.

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immortal moon poem poetry the blood of the chosen one undead vampire vampires writing mywriting