Jun 2017
I gave my innocence to a boy who told me he loved me after only two dates.
The boy I loved at 13 still sends chills down my spine and although I'll always love him, I'm no longer in love with him.
I spent a year in love with a boy who used to call me every night and then I was left haunted by his echo and the dead silence of the phone.
I dated a boy who took me up a mountain to feel alive but secretly wished he could swallow a bottle of pills.
As you can see I was quite used to the idea of handsome strangers loving the idea of my poetically charming words and sincere sense of loving. I was used to being compared to paintings and angels. I was used to being courted and cuddled, and also used to being told I was shallow and shrill.
I was used to not being good enough or way too demanding.
Although I know now I am nothing but the most beautiful parts of a poem.
The pauses at the ends of sweet words, and the carefully crafted run on's you dare not speak. I am the beautiful beginning and the tragic story never told. I am the girl with the Mona Lisa smile and the heart of doves.
I've been told a mosaic of beauty is something only a statue can possess. I've read that love is not to be whispered and pain is not beautiful.
I've spent countless years trying to discover the constellations for the right kind of love affair.
I've whispered secrets to strangers I don't want repeated. I've loved boys with brass hearts and devilish desires. I've walked through my own museum of love and made notes along the way. I've shared stories of every beautifully brilliant boy I have ever crossed paths with, I just hope that someday they learn to appreciate what it's like to walk through a museum of harsh truths, pitiful pain, and I hope they look back and remember me for all the good things I was, and the way they're eyes used to light up when they'd look at me, god I miss that look. I hope they remember the storms and the sunshine, and the new beginnings of my fall, I hope they remember the Christmas lights when the planets are aligned at exactly midnight and wished they had loved me more
(v.m)
The boy I loved at 13 still sends chills down my spine and although I'll always love him, I'm no longer in love with him.
I spent a year in love with a boy who used to call me every night and then I was left haunted by his echo and the dead silence of the phone.
I dated a boy who took me up a mountain to feel alive but secretly wished he could swallow a bottle of pills.
As you can see I was quite used to the idea of handsome strangers loving the idea of my poetically charming words and sincere sense of loving. I was used to being compared to paintings and angels. I was used to being courted and cuddled, and also used to being told I was shallow and shrill.
I was used to not being good enough or way too demanding.
Although I know now I am nothing but the most beautiful parts of a poem.
The pauses at the ends of sweet words, and the carefully crafted run on's you dare not speak. I am the beautiful beginning and the tragic story never told. I am the girl with the Mona Lisa smile and the heart of doves.
I've been told a mosaic of beauty is something only a statue can possess. I've read that love is not to be whispered and pain is not beautiful.
I've spent countless years trying to discover the constellations for the right kind of love affair.
I've whispered secrets to strangers I don't want repeated. I've loved boys with brass hearts and devilish desires. I've walked through my own museum of love and made notes along the way. I've shared stories of every beautifully brilliant boy I have ever crossed paths with, I just hope that someday they learn to appreciate what it's like to walk through a museum of harsh truths, pitiful pain, and I hope they look back and remember me for all the good things I was, and the way they're eyes used to light up when they'd look at me, god I miss that look. I hope they remember the storms and the sunshine, and the new beginnings of my fall, I hope they remember the Christmas lights when the planets are aligned at exactly midnight and wished they had loved me more
(v.m)
