Nov 8, 2014

sad girl seeks sad boy who'll watch an endless supply of cult classics and fuck like an adrenaline junkie

Nov 2, 2014

i always knew i would never be
"girlfriend material"

maybe the gods forgot to cut me carefully from the same cloth they doted out to everybody else

a thicker and more claustrophobic material

one that overheats and suffocates you

my mouth is a forest fire that ignites at the first sight of thunder ahead

other people use their words to heal and comfort their significant other while i'd always had a natural disposition of wielding my tongue as a freshly sharpened knife

i wanted to learn

i wanted to teach myself that in order to be in a relationship you have to treat the hardships like delicately gauzed wounds

changing them out every few hours and applying ointments to soothe and mend the broken flesh

but i don't know if it's because of my mother
who was never very nurturing
taking emotional withdrawals from me throughout my entire childhood

teaching me to cultivate my isolation and find comfort in my loneliness

i'd see the signs of her packing up her bags and departing from a mile away and the only survival method i knew was to let her go before she let me go, again
and again
and again
and again

i tried to mend myself for you
to be less broken down for you

i promised myself i'd be healthier and fight my depression like a true viking at battle

i knew i was never girlfriend material

i don't have the patience or understanding to learn how to nurture wounds

my natural instinct has always been to throw salt in them

to slit my throat and slit my throat and slit my throat until i bled out all of you entirely

it's not that i never knew how to love
but that i never knew how to love properly

caring too much and showing too little
displaying my fear of losing you with an anger that destroys everything in my path

instead of affection and vulnerability

my lovers never know if i love them
i display my feelings  in watered down sentiments that take shape in the way i allow my body to mold into theirs under bedsheets

the love i carry though, suffocates me
it drowns my internal organs
and floods the entirety of my body
leaving me speechless and incapable of articulating how i feel or why i feel the way that i do

in turn i appear cold to the touch
and that is how i knew i was never girlfriend material

i want to lay down on train tracks and sacrifice my body
until i get it right
but i fear it only leaves me in poorer condition than the last

i'm sorry i don't know how to love you properly
i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry i'm sorry

you see, i'm just not "girlfriend material"

Oct 27, 2014

I'm very peculiar
in the sense that I enjoy company
although I never really initiate it

I enjoy love
but I never really procure another's interest

I have a way of embodying the sand as lovers, friends, family, acquaintances, and strangers have a way of embodying the ocean. Coming around to kiss me, or capture me, or acknowledge my existence, ever so often.

But I never have the energy or the power to make anyone stay for very long or at all for that matter.

Nov 8, 2014

you pull and pry at me like an eager child with a new toy, disposing of me as quickly as the newer thing comes along

Nov 8, 2014

pull my panties to the side and fuck me like your little harlot

Oct 27, 2014      Oct 27, 2014

Your entire existence was a cruel joke

that your parents concocted while

you were in the womb

only to tell you, in your later years,

just how bleak and insignificant you truly are

and were always - to them.

I'm a wilting leaf
Oct 16, 2014

I'm a wilting leaf
Trying to cling onto a tree;
Who took care of me,
Who loved me so dearly.

I'm a wilting leaf
So fragile and indecisive;
Whether or not to hold on
Or detach myself from you.

I'm a wilting leaf
Unworthy of your space;
Other flowers could bloom
If only I'd be gone.

I'm a wilting leaf
Release me, let me fall;
'Til I crumble into pieces
And get consumed by dirt.

Nov 4, 2014

i am a broken vase

i am a mad girl’s love song

i am a caged bird

i am a withering ghost

i am dead i am dead i am dead

there is a pulse

why is there a pulse

Nov 4, 2014

i wonder why people talk so much yet mean very little

i wonder why we step on the cracks of sidewalks when we know we’re only killing our mothers

i want to feel violently in love with you

i want you to fall violently in love with me

i want to weave a noose made out of hydrangeas for you and kiss each drop of whiskey into your mouth

i want to pick you apart like the petals off of the stem

do i love you? do i love you not?

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