Tag Archives: breakups

Bady Poetry Friday

Mike- 2nd Chance

You had time to pull your shit together

So why do you return to your asshole tendencies?

Do you enjoy driving me back to beer and cigeettes?

At least I know they’ll always be there

One of these days you’ll wake up

and realize I was the best thing ever to happen to you

and you screwed up

Funny how I thought you might be worth saving

and I sacrficed myself in the process



This doesn’t so much feel like a poem but rather an open letter. Man was I angry.

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Bad Poetry Friday

Untitled (2/16/03)

Liz Phair never said

anything about him

Instead her songs eluded to

what my thoughts were exactly


Anne Sexton was an infamous mistress

she washed off like watercolor


Sometimes I think he is the grime on my car

three weeks thick that the rain can’t erase


Song lyrics and lines from poems

compare nothing to the silence

on the other end of the phone



This was about Mike, my sophomore year in college boyfriend. It was one of those on-again, off-again relationships that was so tumultuous I had to stop talking about it to my friends because they would murder me. Even two years after the breakup he still haunted me.

The Anne Sexton poem I am referring to is my my favorite called “For My Lover Returning to His Wife.” I read it so many times that I still have it memorized over a decade later.



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Bad Poetry Friday

I found out through Facebook recently that an ex-boyfriend who I haven’t spoken to in about 13 years got married. I’m super happy for him. Coincidentally, today’s bad poem was written shortly after our breakup.

Fading Memory 

I cannot remember

the last word

I spoke

on the day

my heart

left the



I cannot remember

the feeling of



Notes: The terrible line breaks are back! I seriously had no rhythm.


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Bad Poetry Friday

Untitled (date unknown)


Why can’t I get over you

you’re a thorn in my side-

the pebble in my shoe

I’m dwelling in melancholy

listening to sad songs

plotting my revenge



I really wish I knew when this was from so I could figure which high school boyfriend this was about.

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Bad Poetry Friday

Untitled (July 1999)

These are still about that same boy. You can also read a flash fiction short story loosely based on the breakup on Figment.com.


I miss my lover

my crazy, crazy lover

who can seduce me with his smile

I don’t mind parked cars in empty lots

or making love only in socks in November

Anything is heaven when he is here.

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Bad Poetry Friday

Untitled (July 1999)

It was a rainy Monday

when you told me the news

I was hurt

I was confused

:Things aren’t working out”

I said, “Is there someone else?”

You didn’t answer

just looked away

Funny how I knew the truth anyway

I must have been blind

I must have been deaf

I didn’t notice

until you left

Come back

come back home

Don’t leave me here alone

She doesn’t know you

Like I do

She doesn’t love you

like I do

She may be your angel

but that doesn’t mean my life

should be a living hell


Remember that boy from the previous poems? Eventually he broke my heart.

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National Bad Poetry Day

In honor of National Bad Poetry Day, here is a gem of mine from 1999.

Remembering (c. 1999)

This was actually published in my high school literary journal.

Looking back through

the looking glass

my reflection reminds me

of my naivete

but all was lost when I

fell from the sky

drunk on love

high on life

and like all fallen angels

I made the mistake

a deadly choice

I lost my heart to the Ace of Hearts

funny how I fell apart

when he left me standing on the side

of the road

out of the clear blue sky

came my knight in his

black Prelude

whole stole my hear for a summer ride

love was the warm wind in my hair

the windows down and

the radio loud to 80’s

all happiness flew out the window

and I was broken

giving my heart to strangers

and trying to learn how to fly again.

then one night by chance

I met a prince

once again I was drunk on love

and smiled at my sun

and he held my hand

and healed my soul

with flowers and “I love you’s”

and midnight passion in parking lots

I became myself again

not letting go of him for

a second.


I clearly hadn’t mastered line breaks yet with this. Also, this is terrible and I manage to reference every boyfriend I had between junior and senior year of high school.

My favorite line is “midnight passion in parking lots” because where else was I going to go make-out?

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Bad Poetry Friday

Untitled (c. unknown, but probably 2001/2002 considering the subject matter)


You pierce my skin with your icy gaze

I pierced my nose in a creative streak

Painted my body with butterflies and ivy

You stole my glory for a cheap high

Now I’m low

stuck in the hole

we dug together

and I’m the one treading water

while you’re still on thin ice, laughing

The knives you use to kill are killing me



Lots of mixed metaphors on this. Don’t ask me how I can be both in a hole  (that I dug) and treading water. This isn’t about ice fishing but about a bad news boyfriend I had sophomore year of college. 

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Bad Poetry Friday

Flowers (6/8/99)

The day you brought me flowers
was the day you
broke my heart
I used to remind you
endless times of my
floral fantasies
Instead you ignored me
I prayed for petals
dreamed of daisies
So plant me a garden of
everlasting love
and I will forever smile

Author’s note: This was written after my senior year boyfriend broke up with me on my graduation vacation. Despite the drama surrounding the breakup, we remained friends.

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Mortification Monday


Dear Diary,

I’d give anything and everything to fall in love. If it meant to have someone hold my hand, stand up for me, make me feel special and happy, yes, I’d give anything and everything to fall in love. Face it, all my other relationships sucked. I mean I dumped John C. and was dumped by Kyle. I don’t even talk, look, smile at them. Not long to Christmas and my 13th birthday! Mrs. D. is leaving for 3 weeks. Having surgery. If only someone would fall in love with me I’d be happy. Let it be Shorty or Bigmouth or Mark L or a sixth grader- anyone! I don’t care if they are ugly. My sister is a spoiled Brat with a BITCHY attitude. I’m reading Anne Frank: The Diary of a Young Girl. A depressing book for someone who is depressed.



Thoughts on the entry above:

1) Apparently John C. did accept my offer to “go out,” though who knows how long we actually “dated.”
2) I have no idea who Shorty and Bigmouth were. Those are terrible nicknames.
3) Clearly I was depressed and desperate. And a wee bot distraught.
4) I don’t know who Mrs. D was or what she taught.
5) For the record, my sister was not spoiled or a bitch. I think I was the witch in this scenario.

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August 6, 2012 · 6:08 am