When a pen's point touches paper,
The ink spreads out,
The page bends around your words,
As you mark the page forever.
With computers, every word is written,
Removed,
And rewritten.
With a tap you can delete
Your words,
Your mistakes,
Your regrets,
Everything.
But you can never take back ink.
The drop can never go back into the pen.
The paper will never again be white
Or perfectly smooth again.
You can't delete pen.
Jul 11, 2015
Jul 11, 2015 at 6:00 AM UTC
I am the stovetop
your mother warned you
not to touch when you were five.
You did it anyways, of course,
because you wanted to see if
you could survive the pain.
I remember you telling me
that story on our third date
after I told you I've never met anyone
I didn't end up hurting.
Masochism runs in the family
you said. Wreckage runs in mine.
When I was five I put aluminum foil
in the microwave just to
sit and watch the destruction
it created. When we met, I knew
we wouldn't last long.
Fire and ice together never does.
Jul 11, 2015
Jul 11, 2015 at 5:57 AM UTC
i miss us, the way we were before
i miss the way you used to understand me
i miss the way i could sit for hours and talk
i miss how i used to turn to you first
i miss the way we knew where we stood with each other
i miss the way i could tell you anything
i miss sitting up until 2 am stalking celebrities together
i miss feeling at home in your presence
i miss our friendship
i miss the trust we had
i miss you
i miss us
Jul 11, 2015
Jul 11, 2015 at 5:53 AM UTC