Written: 10/16/17; Posted: 10/17/18
I hate to break it to you hun,
but that guy, that dude
who you are so infatuated with
will not fix you.
Even if he was the most kind,
endearing, heartfelt guy,
the one who wrote you love letters,
who knew what you wanted
before you even asked
and made sure to get it before
you even opened your mouth,
he will not fix you.
Sure, he might make you happy.
He might fill your stomach with butterflies.
He might be the perfect kisser.
He might say he loves you.
He might actually be telling the truth.
But he will not fix you. Those scars,
those wounds from those battles
of your past will not stop bleeding.
Even if he knows where to place the band-aid,
he will not know how to clean the wound
and you will end up crying on the floor
while he runs around trying to find
tissues, or a bottle of wine,
anything to make you stop
and you will find that the weeks,
the months, you have spent with him
were only the eye in your tornado of a life
and you should have known
the winds were bound to start bowing eventually.
So, no, hun. He will not fix you.
Neither will the next guy, or the one
after that. Some may have a longer runtime
in the land of fantasy but eventually
the curtains will close and you will
discover that the only way to be fixed
is to do it yourself.
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This poem is part of the “I am a writer” posts and “My works,” which can be found here (writer) and here (works). To see all posts, click here.