Not My Type

not my type

“You’re not my type,” Was like daggers to the heart,
The instance where I learned to disappear.
In that limelight, while her pseudo smile comparts
I’m effaced from my romantic’s career.

So many years of strategic planning
In self-reflection to find the courage.
So many fears come with understanding
That I end up in a ditch or I flourish.

I’ve treated curiosity like the plague,
Learned to stay in my own lane for a change
welcomed all insults however vague,
And see how those mistakes can interchange.

Oh how I trapped myself in self-rejection,
constructed my house with awful windows
Each pane I peer in has sad reflections
Each shadow creature, it screams inside my soul

My voice seems callow, not that of a man
I blanket myself in shadows so dark
The exchange of words no more in demand,
And trust is slaughtered by one savage remark.

How does someone cry over nothing?
I call it nothing, because it was never there
Just dashed dreams once permitting goose-bumping,
now silence haunts that mental thoroughfare.

Each highway I take leads nowhere too fast
The modicums of joy, are fleeting specks
To dig myself out of such troubled pasts
I require more than a shovel this trek.

My journey is fraught with many sedulous slights
The mountains have mountains to climb up atop
I search for that voice, that one holding might,
The one, despite everything, says never to stop.

I’m done holding pieces of my crumbling heart,
Tired of fearing something I never had.
In trampling my dignity, I will play no part,
No more are you allowed to make me that sad.

You are not my type as well, I look bad in horns,
I will now walk away and fuck all your plans
The next sucker you find, you can try to conform
And drag along like a sad, lonely fan

Paul Neglia

Proud father of 3. Part time writer of poetry and short stories. I want to paint the world in but a few words.
Paul Neglia

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Paul Neglia

Proud father of 3. Part time writer of poetry and short stories. I want to paint the world in but a few words.

7 thoughts on “Not My Type

  • July 8, 2019 at 9:44 PM
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    Those words “You’re not my type” can cut like a knife. Half the time they never even know or can define what their type is just that you are not it. Paul this poem sounded very bitter and caustic, but etremely well written as always. Good job.

    Reply
    • July 9, 2019 at 7:33 PM
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      Thank you so much for you great comments, as always John, they are much appreciated.

      Reply
  • July 8, 2019 at 11:04 PM
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    Cruelty can come in many different ways and when it comes verbally it can cause physical, mental, and emtional pain. Tis very hurtful and sad indeed to hear such a statement. Very well penned work, Paul.

    Reply
    • July 9, 2019 at 7:36 PM
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      Thank you so much Phyllis. That giant let down when you’ve wasted so much time thinking and preparing for that moment just to have your dream shattered, it is hurtful. I know it’s happened to most people before. Another statement that cuts like a knife is, ” Let’s just be friends.” I’m not sure which one is worse. Thanks again.

      Reply
  • July 9, 2019 at 2:10 AM
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    An impactful write, Paul, with some wonderful phrasing and imagery. How easily we fall where love and attraction are in focus. Fragile creatures at best, we continually question self-worth, appearance and being the delicate flowers we are, suffer from the truth of no interest. So skillfully worded my friend. Loved it.

    Reply
    • July 9, 2019 at 7:39 PM
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      Tony thank you so much, I was just commenting to Phyllis, I’m not sure what’s worse “You’re not my type,” or “Let’s be friends.” Both lead the person down a self-destructive path. I’m glad you enjoyed this. I will read your new stuff tomorrow morning. I am too tired right now. Thanks again

      Reply
  • July 15, 2019 at 10:58 PM
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    Paul, this poem creates strong emotions. You did a great job of not only explaining but you actually conjure the emotion from the reader. Well done. Great write. Jamie

    Reply

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