fornoone-and-someone

[fornoone-and-someone]

Call Me Naive

You promised you liked me and wanted to get to know me better. Looking back, it’s clear all you wanted was sex—I should have known better.

I should have known when you said “I want to see you again,” you only meant it if I was laying in your bed. And all those sweet words—empty, you were just playing with my head.

Trust me, you begged—I don’t want to hurt you, you said, yet the second I dropped my guard, you put a gun to my head.

Maybe my friends are right. Call me naive if you dare—but I’m not scared to admit that I would do it again. I would write down your number—I would lay my head on your chest—I would do all of it if it meant being happy for three more days.

—for no one and someone

[fornoone-and-someone]

A Distant Memory

Late night drive. Short road trip.

The wrong directions. Old married couple.

“What’s your favorite color?” Rainy night.

The wrong phone number. “You are what you drink. So we are monsters.”

Japanese songs we don’t know the meaning of.

I closed my eyes for five seconds; I was dozing off.

A lost charger. A zoo sign.

“What’s your favorite planet?” “What was that light?”

An empty gas station. Unfinished connection.

—for no one and someone

[fornoone-and-someone]

I have no one to talk about you

I don't have anyone to talk with about how much I miss what we could have been

—for no one and someone

[fornoone-and-someone]

[fornoone-and-someone]

“Just because you’re angry doesn’t mean you have the right to be cruel.”

— Unknown

[fornoone-and-someone]

Not what I Want

I don't want to be desired—I want to be understood.

Not craved for a moment, but truly withstood.

To be liked for the things that my mind—not my mouth—can do.

And not have to compensate for doing it too.

I don't want to be sexualized—I want to be held.

To be appreciated for my feelings and depth.

For my curiosity to be cherished, even if the questions seem dumb,

that when I ask for your favorite color, you don't answer with a sexual joke.

I don't want to be rushed—I want to be waited for.

Through actions, not only words.

To be worth “taking things slow”,

Not for you to say it just to gain my trust.

Sorry, not sorry if I ruined your plans.

But I refused to be pushed to the side,

While you tore my heart apart.

—for no one and someone

[fornoone-and-someone]

You Asked Me to Write You a Poem

but I realized you weren’t worth the words

You asked me to write you a poem

I could write fifty, I just don't know how to start

I have so much to say

but no way to make it all rhyme

I mean, there are so many sentences in my head

and none of them seem to make sense.

You asked me to write you a poem

but isn’t it too early for that?

We just met a week ago

and I’d really like for this to last.

I’m not saying you’re the one

I wouldn’t dare to have such hope

after all we did agree on taking this slow.

You asked me to write you a poem

shit if i could I would write you a song

I would even write a book, a thousand pages long

and plastered in those pages would be feelings I haven’t gotten to know

and you wouldn’t either, know them, of course

as i like to keep my feelings hidden

somewhere they’ll never be hurt

You asked me to write you a poem

I’m so mad, I’m crashing out

it’s 1 am and here I am waiting for a hi

And I know you’re busy, trust me I really do

so when my phone rings I know it isn’t you

I still check tho—in case I might be wrong

and there’s this annoying little voice in my head

asking me, “Is this how you take things slow?”

—for no one and someone

[fornoone-and-someone]

I wrote what I never dared to speak,

in borrowed lines and verses bleak.

Not for applause, not for a name,

but for a feeling I couldn’t tame.

For no one, or someone, or maybe just me—

a voice in the dark, setting words free.