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haidieish
haidieish
Mindanao Skinned alive by my lover
One I hopped into my senses And there was you Two You glanced over your shoulder And there was me Three We stared for a blank moment And there was no four. h.s.
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Jun 16, 2016
Jun 16, 2016 at 11:25 PM UTC
Counting Frames
All I saw were splinters of your former love throwing themselves into my skin and wounding everything they landed on. h.s.
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Jun 16, 2016
Jun 16, 2016 at 11:24 PM UTC
Shotgun
1. Pretend that you’re crying. 2. Actually cry. 3. Cry until the marks of your tears dig streams across your cheeks. 4. Learn that crying isn’t for people to see. Talk to yourself. In front of the mirror. To the ceiling. Talk about the unsaid. Say it. 5. Learn that your eyes hold feelings that need releasing before they explode into thousands of pieces of shredded memories. 6. See the proof of your feelings on your wet pillows. 7. Cry some more. 8. Know that your tears are not weakness but gift of love. 9. Learn that you are actually okay except for some hurt strings of your brain. Yes, brain. Not your heart. It just pumps blood, and pretends it feels. 10. Don’t be okay too soon. You’ll get there. h.s.
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Jun 16, 2016
Jun 16, 2016 at 11:23 PM UTC
How to be okay
*i am a mere word of this page and you are the phrases i admire most that i can't have. at least give me a proof of sentence, that i am still part of your paragraph. i've never thought that this boundless sea of whiteness can be so lonesome. the large gap between us and other words, feels like the vastness of the ocean, drowning me in and out of the pages.* ©IGMS
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Jun 12, 2016
Jun 12, 2016 at 8:26 PM UTC
wide spaces
I will tell you a secret. I haven’t moved a bit from where you left me Loving you is the cancer I chose not to treat So let me tell you why: I have loved you all along and I will love you until I have strings in my heart that move to the sound of your footsteps I will love you until my deathbed is an altar of withered feelings and candles tired of watching tears dry up in the ground I will love you until love is sick of being love, hearing my whimpers, screaming your name like holy verses praying for salvation And you will die with me Your life inside me will die with me. | h.s.
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Jun 6, 2016
Jun 6, 2016 at 12:22 AM UTC
Dear Diary