To the person who helped me see the best in my self:
It’s about **** time you see the best in you.
It’s about time you cut the ties with the people like me,
The ones who need you. The ones who want more. The ones who will love you when you don’t want to love yourself.
Because we’re probably less than you expected,
But we need you to find what makes you want to wake up in the morning.
To the person who loves himself just enough:
Be strong. Be resilient. Be young. Be adventurous. But most importantly, be exactly who you want to be.
You get one life. Love and be loved the way that suits you.
Be who you needed when you were younger.
Grow and flourish.
Maybe I’m the sapling.. because I’m pretty sure you’re the soil.
To the person who knows himself:
Wander far and wide.
Meet everyone you can.
Befriend them all; they mean you no harm.
But make haste as you gather your thoughts and belongings.
You’re the vagabond I long to be.
Here’s to you:
Another round, please.
Mar 2, 2019
Mar 2, 2019 at 5:58 PM UTC
Step One:
Meet someone.
Step Two:
Become friends.
Step Three:
Spend too much time with them.
Step Four:
Realize that you have gotten along better with them than anyone else you know.
Step Five:
Tell yourself that they're the one for you.
Step Six:
Tell them that they're the one for you.
Step Seven:
Date.
Step Eight:
Fall in love.
Take a deep breath.
This is where it gets tricky.
STEP NINE:
Stay together for awhile...
STEP TEN:
AND AWHILE LONGER
STEP ELEVEN
AND WHILE LONGER
STEP TWELVE
AND AWHILE LONGER
AND AWHILE LONGER
AND AWHILE LONGER
AND AWHILE LONGER
STEP THIRTEEN:
SHORTEN CONVERSATIONS
STEP FOURTEEN:
AWKWARD SILENCE
STEP FIFTEEN:
THEY STOP CALLING
STEP SIXTEEN:
THEY STOP TEXTING
STEP SEVENTEEN:
THEY SAY THEY FEEL DIFFERENTLY
STEP EIGHTEEN:
THEY SAY THEY MET SOMEONE ELSE
STEP NINETEEN:
THEY SAY THEY STILL WANT TO BE FRIENDS
STEP TWENTY:
THEY BLOCK YOU ONLINE
STEP TWENTY-ONE:
THEY BLOCK YOUR CELLPHONE NUMBER
STEP TWENTY-TWO:
YOU CRY
and you cry
and cry
and cry
and cry and cry and cry...
Step Twenty-Three:
...you fall
and hit rock bottom.
There you have it, ladies in gentlemen:
How to **** yourself without actually dying?
...Love someone who doesn't love you back.
Mar 21, 2016
Mar 21, 2016 at 10:56 PM UTC
New memories develop
At such a rapid pace
That I can't seem
To differentiate
The time they were given
And the time I fully received them.
Maybe time is relative...
All I know is
That it's relevant
When it passes by too quickly
That you forget to stop and smell the flowers
Which died long ago
But you can't seem to throw out
Because when you do,
You throw away another
Memory
Like the ones you promised
Long ago
That you never would.
I did this for you
And not the universal
YOU
...But him.
I thought that
Things would get better
If I followed his advice
And replaced the old
With new.
Yet now that it's over
I feel like
I am missing
The most important parts
Of me.
I want to blame him
But that is ignorant.
I'm the one who chose
Submission
Over stance
All for a lover
Who I could not fulfill
And who knows
That it goes both ways.
This time
I don't want him back
But I wish,
More than anything,
That I could have myself back
Because I gave too many pieces
Of my self
In order to please someone
That I knew I ever could.
Mar 15, 2016
Mar 15, 2016 at 12:13 PM UTC
When he speaks,
sometimes I hold my breath
like I hold his hands.
Drowning above water,
caught in the riptide of
Lust and Language,
seems like such a foreign concept.
At least it was before I met him.
I can feel my heart
as it palpitates
and the arteries
that throb just
below my skull...
They silently beg me to
let go of what his words
do - the pressure they place
on my lungs.
Winded like prey
who has just flown
from the ravenous predator.
I feel torn apart
more often than saved.
And right now, I ******* hate metaphors.
Who knew it was possible
to anticipate
that the way you may die
would actually be
the only way you ever lived?
Always caught up in
someone else's words.
Dec 5, 2015
Dec 5, 2015 at 7:13 AM UTC
Extra lessons after school
Explaining how you are not yourself
Such small words used so simply
Cut like knives through your chest
'She'
Paraphrasing arguments
Summarizing discipline
Faceless family with too much on their own plate to understand
Why you don't like what's on yours
'She'
Tightness in your chest not because your binding is too small
But because it isn't
The name of a state has never hurt so much
'She'
You look in the mirror and grimace
Shower so fast you don't have to see yourself
Roll their words in your mind until you're leaning over the toilet
'She'
Humming summer days fade into early autumn nights
Long days enforce what they have already told you
Dress code laws repeated by tongue
And hasty dressing in changing rooms
Hoping they won't notice you
'She'
But you are an active volcano
There are wolves in your chest and lions in your brain
And they can't change you
You get home and look in the mirror and sign into skype
A simple word that only drops one letter
Has never had so much power
He.
Dec 5, 2015
Dec 5, 2015 at 6:59 AM UTC
Tonight he leaves you with a pile of his favorite CDs;
you dream of loading them onto Noah’s Ark before the flood,
along with his 3 A.M. texts and prescription glasses;
he will talk to you when she is not around,
look directly into your eyes, until your heart cracks
and spills into his palms like a weak egg yolk
ready for the frying pan. Do not wait for his little green Facebook
symbol to light up or you will be up all night.
He will kiss her in front of you, a kiss so deep
it could cut straight to the bone like an interrogator
slowly removing a suspect’s finger with a carving knife.
Shield your eyes and turn away;
pretend you are casually studying the poster on the wall.
You will wonder if her body leaves an outline in his bed
the same way a crime scene is taped off
around the chalked-in edges of the victim,
and still he will call you twenty minutes before midnight
wanting to go out for ice cream
when you end up comparing the best 90’s music
over his kitchen table instead. When he looks at you
across this very same table, stare directly back.
Do not flinch. Do not turn away this time.
Let the tidal wave of his stare wash over you
until it drenches your hair
and he wants to comb out the sadness with his fingers:
let him. Let him.
It will take a while to work through the tangles
but savor this last moment with his fingers
unknotting you like needles, before tomorrow,
when he will go back to her again, bouncing
between the two of you like a yo-yo,
the kind that returns to the owner
then moves on to another when it grows bored.
Dec 5, 2015
Dec 5, 2015 at 6:56 AM UTC