this is not a love poem this poem will not fill you with the warm fuzzies the way e.e. cummings does it will not make you believe in the power of love or the magic of love love what the hell is love anyway? because i always thought love was supposed to fill you with the same feeling you get when you read an e.e. cummngs poem  not like this 

this is not a love poem no, it’s too angry for that  love should never be angry  and yet, here i am seething with rage  not at you, but at myself  for allowing myself to be vulnerable, to be captivated  to let my guard down, to break down my walls and allow someone in  allow you in and then you set this whole goddamn place ablaze  the match is in your hands but i feel as though the blame is on me

this is not a love poem but an apology  an apology to my heart for all of the damage and pain its been through an apology to my hands for all the words i’ve made them write about you an apology to lips for all the times i’ve made them choke on your name an apology to my entire being for being touched by you, for having every inch of skin tattooed with a memory of you, you are everywhere, you are all over me

this is not a love poem but a cry for help or more like a cry into the void because you said that you would be there you said that we could still be friends and like a goddamn fool, i believed you and i needed you but where are you?

this is not a love poem no, i’m tired of writing those in fact, i want all of my poems back i want my words that i endlessly spilled for you back i want my writer’s block back because at least while i was struggling to verbalize how you broke my heart, i had something else on my mind i want my thoughts back i want my memories back i want my favorite songs back i want my smile back i want myself back

this is not a love poem but even if it was it’s not like you’d read it anyway