If you asked me a year ago, if I still loved my ex... I'd tell you yes. I'd reply that the stars in the sky couldn't compare to the twinkle in his eyes. I'd climb to the tops of the buildings whose silhouettes decorate our night sky, and scream from the tops of my lungs that, "YES. I DO LOVE HIM. Every time someone mentions his name I feel the butterflies in my stomach turn to stone. The tears burn my eyes as my make-up runs down my face. My chest caves in and I can't fill my lungs with enough air to breathe."
If you asked me if I loved him today, I'd say yes. I'd reply that although I do love him, I'm no longer in love with him.
Feb 9, 2016
Feb 9, 2016 at 11:18 PM UTC
Sometimes
When I lay in bed
I wish
That I would fall
In a deep sleep
And never wake up
May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 12:32 AM UTC
You replaced I love you's with
flowers hanging from my doorknob
perishing with each passing day
and scotch that burns my throat
as i swallow
one shot
after
the
next
Aug 28, 2014
Aug 28, 2014 at 4:00 AM UTC
January:
We vowed to spend this new year together.
You kissed me at midnight
And drove away in your Mustang.
February:
Both of our birthdays are this month.
Yours the seventh,
Mine the nineteenth.
Your birthday comes,
And I bake you cupcakes.
They're decorated like Spider-Man.
Your favorite.
Valentine's day comes;
I give you a sock monkey,
And my heart.
The nineteenth comes.
You surprise me with a three foot tall Darth Vader doll.
March:
I asked you to go to a concert with me.
April:
Prom.
You had to work.
I went anyway.
We had a date afterwards,
Or so I thought.
You didn't show up,
I cried myself to sleep.
May:
You graduate,
I don't go.
You said it's okay,
But I don't believe you.
I told you I loved you;
You haven't said it back.
June third:
We break up.
Six months ago:
I was everything.
Six months ago:
I met you;
We were everything.
Six weeks ago:
We were everything.
Six weeks ago:
You decided you didn't want me anymore.
You decided that work was more important than I was.
You lead me on for over a month.
Six days ago:
You started acting differently.
You dodged my kisses like I hold the bubonic plague between my lips.
You refuse to hold me, but swear everything is fine.
Six days ago:
You said your car broke down.
You said you couldn't come by this week because your "car broke down".
You live less than half a mile away, but your car. broke. down.
Six hours ago:
I saw you for the first time since we broke up.
I saw you talk to other girls in front of me as if I hadn't existed.
Six hours ago:
I asked you to take me home.
I can't deal with this anymore.
You're happier without me,
And me?
I'm living in hell.
Six hours ago:
You asked me if something was wrong and I responded that everything was fine.
Maybe if I told you this, I'd believe it to.
I'd believe like the butterflies in my stomach hadn't died and sunk into the pits of my soul. I'd pretend like I hadn't lost the one person I thought cared.
Six minutes ago:
You asked me why I hadn't been talking to you lately. I told you about my poetry.
Six minutes ago:
You asked me if you could read my writing.
Six minutes ago:
Of course I said no.
Aug 21, 2014
Aug 21, 2014 at 4:35 AM UTC