The Journal of Adele Cameron|
a rage in truth
08/15/2012 10:44 p.m.
i call into question everything that you've ever said in the past few month's about other women you've met, since we agreed in the beginning that it was a set condition of either, you are just with me... or not.
now, i can see how grasping you were of my hand after you've left, how loose my finger's were in you'rs and how 'anxious' you were because of it.
i detatched when you should have from the beginning.
And funnily enough, even my dream's were telling me of what you were doing, before my friend told me what has happened when you should have first.
maybe i would have not have been so fucking angry, and could have left on more easier term's but the truth of it now..
i rather enjoyed that Rage that was in me, telling you to get the fuck out of my way and to move because honestly... you were just a blocker in my life, see.
you lost your value and worth and when you lied to me.
since you knew me, you never wanted to be anything like an ex of mine because you see how badly that hit and hurt me, yet you do the same thing..
following me in your car after I've left was bad taste but i didn't care anymore, there was no tight hot tension of having to face you anymore because I wasn't the one in the wrong and i didn't have to eat you're excuses or your own guilt at what you've done.
you're the one that has to eat all those ugly words of your's.
i hope it tastes like the shit that it is.
This, is not a poem.
08/18/2011 09:51 p.m.
This is about a daughter trying to reach her mother
a year after her son, my brother has died.
Do you know
how HARD it is to reach someone when all they want to do
is exist in a shell?
this is not a boasting credit or something to prove
that i am hard and unreachable
but she has never hugged me since.
this is also, not a cry for mercy because
i refuse to give into the thought that
she and I will never be close again.
I've been dating someone for a month now
and she's had no interest to meet my new squeeze
has not been interested in even casual talking
and i fear it's because
she may have to be invested in my life,
in our lives
and in her own.
this is not a poem.
this is not a heartache
and this is not a rant.
this is me simply wishing
I could hold her hand and see myself
reflected back in her eyes.
I am currently Reflective
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