It was cute the way she smiled at you,
in faded tee-shirts that matched her eyes.
That white washed blue always lingered,
pressed behind my eyelids.
I could probably,
try and forget the image,
if I really wanted to.
But I didn't.
I wanted to remember everything about her.
Her smile,
her tee-shirts.
Her college sweatshirts,
("my dream colleges, I'm not smart enough to get into these places.")
And how I would just stare at her because she didn't seem to realize that
she was a genius.
But she's gone now.
Washed away,
blown away,
written over.
There are so many ways to say it.
How she ******* died.
But I prefer, ******* died."
Because I don't want to forget out childish memories,
our late nights filled with pointless conversations that led to
more meaningful ones.
She was the one that made me realize I was lesbian.
All I wanted was to kiss her.
She would wrap her arms around me,
just in goodbye hugs.
And I wished I had the courage to tell her,
"I love you. And I want to kiss you more than
anything right now."
But I'm not a brave girl.
I'm a girl who writes on the back of menu's and notebooks,
the girl who wants to forget things before they are remembered.
But I guess she was my weakness, she was many people's weaknesses after all.
I wanted to remember her before I forgot her.
Those white washed eyes,
straight white teeth smiles.
College tee-shirts with mascara stains.
Late nights where I wasn't brave enough.
Early mornings when I bid her farewell.
Mid day's where I regretted letting her go.
But I would remember that to let someone go it means to have had them be yours in the first place.
She was a free bird that one.
And I like to think that right now, she is flying with the flocks of geese.
Which were her favorites, despite my hatred.
So whenever I see the flocks of geese dotting the sky.
I like to imagine that she is one of them.
I like to imagine that she ******* cares.
But then again, I want to remember her.
And when I remember her, I remember that she didn't care about anything.
And that's why she jumped.
And that's why she cut.
And that's why she cried.
And when I remember her,
I seem to forget those parts.
Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 12:17 PM UTC
i dont think that you
my love
deserve to frown
my love
it isnt fair
my love
that i am the one smiling
my love
because oh how horrible of a person i am
my love
and you will never listen to me when i try and tell you to run away
my love
so just listen here
my love
im not who you think i am.
Aug 3, 2014
Aug 3, 2014 at 8:09 PM UTC
and as your toxic kisses began
to wear me away i never got the chance
to say i love you.
Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 5:15 PM UTC
the words we
wrote on our
slitted pieces
of paper wer
e all lies and
i hope that w
hoever pulls
our old batt
ered notebo
ok out of th
e dusty ches
t in the man
or falling ap
art that we r
ulled with p
aper hats an
d painted na
ils knows tha
t our love wa
sn't really me
ant to be.
Jul 27, 2014
Jul 27, 2014 at 10:36 AM UTC
paint all over me with your tears and let
them wash away the dirt and grime left
by the people that once muttered the deadly
words "i love you"
paint me with the brush you used to reinvent yourself
i want to become a better me too, and honey
if you accomplished the impossible
than you can give hope to the hopeless.
so will you paint over me?
or will you let the dirt destroy who you
once knew.
Jul 27, 2014
Jul 27, 2014 at 10:29 AM UTC
our love was like a bandaid
hiding our rotting selves
as we tried to ignore the pain
and we both knew at one
point we were gonna have
to rip off our cover to see
if we healed, but we just
let the bandaid sit and collect
dirt along its adhesive rim
and ignored the infection
growing beneath it.
the pain was worse then the
sting after all.
Jul 27, 2014
Jul 27, 2014 at 10:23 AM UTC