Daydreams Turned into Poetry

Sometimes I like to sit in the shower,

Some days it's the only place in the entire world that I can feel my own power. 

The water trickles above me like the leaning tower.

Sometimes I need to just let the water hit my layers of skin. 

I realize now how dangerous it was for me to let you in. 

Because I think about how much I need you and how much I love you is a sin. 

As the water plashes from corner to corner,

Memories of us begin to seep out of my pores. 

The memories of you overflow. 

Why we could never see eye to eye or continue to grow? 

How we both felt things, but I guess we'll both never really know. 

I daydream about how you would always move my hair from behind my neck 

and let the water sprinkle down my spine. 

Sometimes I like to sit in the shower and think of us because it freezes time. 

I wipe each tear as it falls from the creases of my eyes.

A little piece of me every time I think of you, dies. 

I take a deep breath in. 

I just want to feel you again. 

Instead, 

I feel the steam pour out of the ceiling.

Sometimes I remember how far I am from healing. 

But every chapter has a new beginning. 

I’m in the middle of my rewrite. 

Sometimes I like to sit in the shower 

because I can almost, ever so slightly, remember your light. 

I wasn’t perfect, nor did I claim to be. 
I just wanted you, wanted you to see me. 
Our story was never really as loving or magical as I made it seem. 
You were strikingly beautiful, like something out of my wildest dreams. 
But you were also cruel, judgmental, and always falling apart at the seams. 
I hope you know that I really loved you. 
But in me doing so, I could constantly tell it was too good to be true. 
I needed something new. 
I’ve recovered time and time again. 

Just know, it wasn’t me who needed saving in the end. 

Staring at a bouquet of roses wondering...

Were we ever really something?

I thought we were...

...But maybe we weren't.

It's not really that I'm upset.

There's just some pieces of you that still haven't left. 

Picking peddles off of this bouquet of roses contemplating...

But what if we had never met?

You taught me a so much.

That it wasn't my faults that broke us up this time, but rather,

 you just weren't enough.

I never saw myself as part of your overall plot.

But you taught me exactly  what to do when he loves me, 

and especially when he does not.