To The Boy Who Had Hurt Me: I'm Not Her

I was at a party, seeking for you 
But people in drunken stupors blocked my path to you 
And you were talking to her again 

Blonde hair and pretty blue eyes 
Long legs, perfect hands 

I lingered there, the view aggravating the hurt 
I wanted to cry 
And I wanted to go home thinking a new day would approach in a snap 
But I just stood there like some sort of creep or a ghost 

I had chipped nails, a red nose, and you’d count every zit on my face 
You left me and I was feeling out of place 
Overlapping voices filled my ears but all I could hear 
Was your smile, your happiness 

And because I loved you, 
I respected your space 
And the fact that you were free to do anything in your life 

I had ripped jeans and a black jacket on 
She had big earrings, a big smile, and was on her cellphone 
While you waited, smiling with lust 
And you turned out to be someone I couldn’t trust 

Your eyes took mine--- and you merely noticed that it was the darkest brown you’ve ever seen 
You then took her somewhere--- a place we’ve never been 
Compared to her rosy cheeks, long legs, fierce eyes 
I could see all your why’s 

You pitied me 
For what I couldn’t be 
For I wasn’t her 
For I’m not her

This poem is about: 
Guide that inspired this poem: 


Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741