Because of what you did I let you go,
But without you my life is torturously slow,
My heart yearns to see your smiling face,
Just one last time for old times sake,
I want to cry but the tears won't come,
The song of love can no longer be sung,
Our relationship was just a con,
I guess I'll have to just move on,
The memories of you hurt so bad,
How could I have fallen for such a cad?
So what do I do to ease the pain?
You caused this agony that's driven me insane!
I can not see how you won't try to ease my tortured soul,
Your heart must be made of coal,
Well I will live without you from now on,
I now won't care if you are gone,
You have caused pain to my now broken heart,
But to continue to bleed would not be smart,
So go ahead and haunt my thoughts longer,
It will only make me stronger!

Now, to show that I am no longer that girl that wrote the previous poem (I wrote it in highschool, sophmore year), here's another example. This was written last year, after I started writing poems again. I stopped writing poems in sophmore year actually (which was...a little over four years ago), the same year I wrote that one above. I was scammed, by poetry.com if anyone has heard of it and I felt like I would never be a good poet because they told me that I was wonderful when I was in fact very, very bad. How was I supposed to know if I was writing anything good if people were lying to me and trying to take my money like they did? Here's the other poem then:

Traveling a Story

A stiff binding. Yellowed pages. Curved, ink letters.
My hand glides over the cover,
And I feel the ridges of a story coil inside.
Fingers grip, papers arch.
The pages slouch open as I hear a heavy sigh.
Tendrils stretch, and words yawn wide,
And I am drawn in.

I’m lost, suddenly, as my breath takes in the words.
The first page is a dusty road,
Rising and falling over country hills,
Splitting as I turn the page.
I turn left, and the story is blowing at my back,
Driving me forward.

I exhale, and the story races before me.
Drama tastes bitter on my lips as he pulls away,
While Humor flits in front of me like an aerial sprite.
Tragedy looms behind in my shadow,
Sighing out soliloquies of remorse,
And Romance follows hazily.
My eyes fill with stars.

I take the time to breathe again, feeling overwhelmed.
The story comes rushing back to crash into me,
And I gasp, a fish gulping for water.
I stumble back and out of the pages,
No longer hearing the groan of words,
Or smelling the aroma of dust curling up from pages.

I look at the lifeless writings,
Dry and dead beneath my shaking hands,
And though I sit, parted from my companions
I search out another jagged road in the distance,
And the tales that journey on it.

I don't know how good this one is, but compared to the last one it's a masterpiece. I wrote it for a class assignment and the teacher actually eventually asked me if I had written poems before. She liked my poems and while I was still unsure about what to believe, I felt like believing what she said to me.