People will never understand
My irony when I say
I hope you
Choke on ****
And die.
That's the honest to god truth.
Jun 11, 2014
Jun 11, 2014 at 6:43 AM UTC
"Remember in summer when we used to listen to the smiths and make out in that little hidden park?" He said with a little smirk.
"Tragically, yes." She didn't even look at him. She didn't laugh with him. She didn't smirk back. She looked ahead, stared at the open road, like it was a possible escape plan.
"I miss you." He didn't think. Its funny, the things you regret immediately, the things you regret as they're happening.
"No, you don't." The same monotone voice.
"Why cant we get over this?" Hes not angry, or pleading, or sad. Hes just asking. He doesn't expect an answer.
"Because I hate you." She said. This time she looked away from the road, she looked at him, dead in the eye. Her eyes were welled with tears, they did not steam down her face or smear her make up, they were just there. Like they weren't for anyone but her. And he didn't want to take that away from her.
"You're my best friend."
"I don't care. I hate you, with every fiber of my being, I hate you. I hate you like the sun hates the moon, I hate you." She said it matter of factly, trying to be hurtful. She didn't want him to think she was weak. That she would just give up on this.
"I cant loose you." His voice broke half way though, snapped under the pressure, hiccuped like a prepubescent boy talking to his crush.
She turned to him, lent forward and whispered in his ear.
"Too late." She turned on the ***** of her feet and melted away into the cool winters day, like she used to on those summer ones, where they would listen to the smiths, in that little hidden field, and make out. When they were best friends. When they both knew they could never be just best friends. When they both tasted like the american dream and homemade cooking. When the sun loved the moon.
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 6:51 AM UTC
"I think you are amazing."
"Amazing is a big word."
"It suits you."
"You don't have to say nice things to me."
"I say what I mean... I mean what I say."
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 4:02 AM UTC
Your name is nothing but air in my lungs
Your lips, nothing but past heat beats I kept at arms length
Your words, nothing but a mumbled mess.
But I'll always listen to your favorite bands.
Put your art up in my room.
Think of you before I go to sleep at night.
I will always be pathetically,
Hopelessly,
desperately,
in love with you.
Like the rain loves my ***** windows,
Ill be there.
But only if you need me.
And only if you want me.
And sometimes when you don't need me
or want me.
You are sun through trees,
star lit nights,
every cold breeze,
cigarette,
love song.
You are bitter, sour and sweet.
You are my home,
and my lost.
You are the last person I want to fall in love with
Because you're never going to love me.
But I cant imagine what its like not to feel this way.
May 5, 2014
May 5, 2014 at 7:43 AM UTC
You called it a love bite
Like the word hickey would burn in your mouth
and strip away the taste of her still on your lips
You called it a love bite
Because hickey sounded like troubled teens
and stained sheets
You called it a love bite
Because her perfume still stuck to your shirt
and you didn't want to take it off
You called it a love bite
because you loved her
But you knew she called it a hickey
and nothing more.
Apr 18, 2014
Apr 18, 2014 at 5:19 AM UTC
Shameless.
Caught under your humid flesh.
I watch on as if I don't own my own body anymore,
as if no
really meant yes.
But tomorrow I will have to remind myself,
that this really is
my skin.
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 7:24 AM UTC
I will rip open
the scared flesh
on my back
and show you
every
single
one
of my vertebra
I
am not
Spineless.
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 7:19 AM UTC
She doesn't know you
but she could tell you your favourite song
because it reminds her or the backs of your hands,
older than they would seem
and much wiser than her.
You've never spoken but your voice
is her favourite song.
Continuously playing in the back of her mind,
like a broken record
you don't want to turn off.
She too
is a broken record of your name
Yet she does not know what it is,
like its resting on the tips of her lips
I imagine her
resting on the edge of yours.
She tries to write poems
about how you make her
weak at the knees.
Frustrated,
she tells me how she cant write your perfection.
It is endless
and effortless
and compares to nothing.
She often then contradicts herself by
Comparing you to the vastness of space
and the brightest stars.
He is all of me,
she says.
She knows you better in her dreams
than she knows her own mother
who knows not of the love she has given.
She knows you'll love her because she is
the sort of person who steps on every crack
And reads obscure books
with strange names.
You will love her because shes pretty
and ambitious
and astute and charming.
She is endless and effortless
and compares to nothing,
you will often contradict this by
comparing her to the vastness of space
and the brightest stars.
She will be all of you.
Her name
Her lips
Her love
will rest on the edge of your lips.
And you will love her,
as she does you,
as I do her.
Mar 25, 2014
Mar 25, 2014 at 5:53 AM UTC