She fell in love with November,
for the way the sun shined down on
decaying leafs
and chilling temperatures danced upon the tips of her fingers,
providing her with a perfect balance between life and death.
She presented herself to the world in this manner,
always happy and bright, but never content,
as days carried on cracks in her skin led to trails of pieces on the ground.
Her eyes often flickered between a beautiful orange and a sickly brown.
Her heart, as much as it wanted to be warm was deafly cold.
She was a mystery.
And as December rolled in and the world froze over in darkness,
so did she.
The only light in her life was the moon.
how badly I wish she could've loved a month like June.
Nov 15, 2014
Nov 15, 2014 at 9:55 PM UTC
There's an ice storm in my brain,
my thoughts
are sliding
out of control,
there's a fire in my chest,
making ashes
of what's left of
my soul.
Nov 15, 2014
Nov 15, 2014 at 9:48 PM UTC
how could a heart like yours
love a heart like mine
your heart is full of love.
you dream of life.
you have no regrets.
you live without fear of the future.
my heart is full of-
well it's not full at all:
it's broken; shattered,
into a thousand tiny little pieces.
and somehow, someway,
you were kind enough;
to hunt for every little piece,
and put me back together.
and this is why i,
will never understand,
this silly little thing,
we call love.
Nov 9, 2014
Nov 9, 2014 at 6:43 PM UTC
i dreamt you could love me again,
that you had a big studio apartment in the city
and you bought her lots of gifts,
made her go thrifting with you
to buy strange clothes,
but she knew you loved someone else,
she knew you missed me
and that you would always be mine,
and although i woke up
and not a bit of it was true
(because i know you love her
and that you don’t think about me)
it was still nice to live in a world
where your heart had not
forgotten my name.
Nov 5, 2014
Nov 5, 2014 at 5:52 PM UTC