You and I were like fire and gasoline,

each time we saw each other, you inflamed me

my mind, my soul, my heart was alive

but then the depression hit me and I was just trying to survive.

My soul had been fed but only for such a short time,

don't know why you did me wrong for innocent enough crimes

I didn't lie, belittle, or manipulate--all the things you said you hate

You blamed it on me, and cornered me in the cab of that car

berated me to tears and took it too far.

All the nights we spent staying up late and analyzing films

made me realize that the antogonist was you altogether still

all the time you wasted on me while you knew things I didn't know

all the cowardice and selfish ways you never got to show--

Not til the last minute, when you neglected me in need

cruelly sneered at me.

Then you cried when we were together, giving me my stuff

we agreed we'd see each other in 2 more months

See where we're going, grow from where we've been

but now I'm wondering if we will even meet again.

. . . 

But that's beside the point, I'm here to tell you why

poetry evaporates all the tears from my eyes

Ever since I was little, I loved writing prompts in class

I always wrote past the time the teacher made last.

Essays were fun, writing was my favorite creative outlet

and once I became a musician, I learned how to shout it

Poems became lyrics about how frustrated I am

and songs became poems about feeling that life was a sham

Whatever energy I brought to the table was enthused by more thoughts

and then my brain started thinking a lot,

"This is art, this means a lot to me," I always knew it and I could see

that this is something that could set all my negative emotions free.

I decided upon this medium while young,

I always felt such a connection to my pen and paper and poems that I sung

I realized that there was a disconnect, something that I'd miss

which would be me, getting to share what was in my brain...all of this.

This poem is about: 
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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