the collection
june
july
august
september
october
november
december
GREY.
How the worlds gone grey,
all the colors left.
I hear that you’re ok.
Don’t you have any regrets?
All the struggles,
All the pain,
All the time I wasn’t ok.
All the years,
All the hurt,
All the times I wished I wasn’t yours.
I stopped going to therapy,
not because I thought I’d manage;
I didn’t go because it’s not fair,
For me to pay the repairs of your damage.
You got off Scott-free,
and I’m not at all shocked,
but I know it’s not me…
It was you who caused,
This slow motion car crash.
All these years later, I still have
the bruises and the whiplash,
but you don’t have a scratch.
I replay it frame by frame,
Incinerated in my brain,
So I could forever torture myself
Asking myself again,
What did I do wrong?
Was it me?
Did I ask too much?
What did you need?
What could I have done,
differently?
Or even worse,
was it you and not me?
LOVE, DEAR ABBY
“What if I ruin it?”
“What if you don’t?”
- abby
love, dear abby...
➵ 21, female, she/her, leo, istp
➵ ask me anything, anytime. i love answering “dear abby,” asks
want me to write something for you?
➵ writing requests: OPEN
➵ spotify
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QUOTES + POETRY:
➵ 2024: Collection
➵ 2025:
➵ january
the magic 5% that writers surprise you with - follow to see more
➵ Grey Poem
➵ Friend Poem
➵ Keychain Poem
➵ January list
➵ 2024 Collection
➵ currently writing a book
➵ the loving mother to a handsome black cat and adorable yellow mutt
➵ according to my DNA, i am 108% likely to consume more caffeine than the average person. it’s literally in my blood
“I had a dream that we were together, and everything was ok. Then I turned and looked away, only to discover, it wasn’t you anymore. It was him.”
- abby
“fool me once: shame on you.
“fool me twice: well, now you can’t since i have trust issues.”
“i don’t know what’s worse: to have lost them, or to have never had them at all…”
“i do. it’s to know which way it was…”
- abby
KEYCHAIN.
Walking two miles in the night rain, crying, shaking, nervous,
Feeling like Red Riding Hood,
standing on my grandmothers porch, How do I tell her,
her son’s the Big Bad Wolf?
She tells me in public that effort goes both ways,
That I need to try harder,
She knows that he’s made his choice,
That he doesn’t care and that he’s no father,
The fact that in public, she’ll tell me one thing
and in private, something different
It’s all an illusion and smoke screen.
I know that I was never important.
Holding that stupid keychain is proof that I never stopped trying,
So often I try to make plans and he’d put me off every time,
She’d look at me as I cried to her, with her own crocodile tears,
I don’t know how her son being a deadbeat isnt one of her biggest fears.
And so I left with that same keychain, not knowing what to do with it
Maybe I’d throw it in the woods or a lake, but I couldn’t go through with it.
I held onto that thing for a goddamn year and it taunted me every day
Until I eventually found the person it belonged to, the person with whom it was meant to stay,
I had a whole speech ready to recite upon giving him that keychain,
But of course, when it came time to actually do it, I had nothing in my brain.
I stuttered and rushed and mumbled hoping that whatever I said,
Would still carry its meaning and at the very least make sense.
To my surprise he actually cared, and used his words to convey,
How much he loved and was honored that I’d given him the keychain.
Immediately, he hung it up somewhere safe, making me feel like a daughter,
It was then that I realized I had missed out on what it felt like to have a father.
LOVE, DEAR ABBY
i was only a sentence in the book of your life.
but you were the main character in mine.
- abby
“I live for you more than I live for myself.”