I find the tattoos on other people fascinating.
They all speak to me,
Each one with their own story.
The compass tattooed on a shoulder blade.
It tells the story of the teenage boy,
The one who fell so effortlessly in love,
The one who lost himself in another's company,
Then had to find himself and his own way without her.
The lightning bolt tattooed on a young girl's foot.
It speaks of the late night thunderstorms,
The ones spent with a boy who was her world,
The boy with the thunderstorms raging inside of him,
Who ended his life much too soon.
The anchor tattooed on a teen mom's heel.
It reminds the young mother to stay grounded,
To keep the drug abuse in her past,
To stay away from the alcohol,
If only for her daughter.
The rocketship and the moon tattooed on his fingers.
It brings back memories of a little boy,
The man's little brother,
The one who he'd fly to the moon and back for,
That became his priority when his father left them.
The music notes making their way around her wrist.
They tell the story of her teenage years,
The years filled with fighting parents,
The years where her only companion was music,
That in a way saved her life.
Aug 1, 2015
Aug 1, 2015 at 8:24 AM UTC
How do you tell someone you love them?
Do you just walk up and blurt it out?
Is there some special sign to know when to,
Or do you have to take your best guess?
What if they won't say it back because they're scared?
Or even worse, because they don't like you?
What do you do if that happens?
Do you just walk away from it all?
Act like it never happened?
Because that's what you did.
You told me you loved me one day.
I didn't answer you right away.
I think you thought I didn't feel the same,
When I was actually reveling in how good those words felt.
And before I had the chance to say anything,
You just turned around and walked away from me
And you never came back.
I never could return those three words to you.
I love you.
Oct 20, 2013
Oct 20, 2013 at 8:31 PM UTC
Even she who loved nothing
fell in love with him
Oct 20, 2013
Oct 20, 2013 at 8:22 PM UTC
There's a boy here.
He says he loves me.
It'd been a while
Since I'd heard that.
It used to be you.
Actually,
It was only you.
He treats me well I guess.
A little too well, honestly.
I mean, he's great.
I truly mean it.
But when it comes down to it,
I still love you.
I'll always love
Only you.
Oct 12, 2013
Oct 12, 2013 at 10:14 PM UTC
You used to call me cutie all the time.
Sometimes muffin instead.
You told me all the time
How much you loved me,
How amazing I was,
How I was too good for you.
But now you act like it never happened.
You walk back in my life
After leaving in such a **** hurry
And pretend nothing ever happened.
You act like staying up with me all night
Talking to me when I was upset
Never even happened.
You still tell me
"Morning"
When you wake each morning and
"Goodnight"
Before I fall asleep each night.
But it's different.
It feels like the love isn't there anymore
Then again, maybe it's not.
Maybe I just need to accept that
You're not who I fell in love with.
Oct 8, 2013
Oct 8, 2013 at 8:17 PM UTC
Yes, I do still care about you.
Yes, part of me still loves you.
Then again how could I not?
I'm too invested in you to not.
You were the essence of my existence.
The reason for me to breathe.
I can't just wake up one morning,
Think how much I regret it all,
And take it all back,
Pretend like it never happened,
Or forget you completely.
You are, in a way, part of me.
Part of me that I can't lose.
No matter how much I want to.
No matter how painful it is.
I really care about you.
I love you, even now.
Then again,
How could I not?
Oct 4, 2013
Oct 4, 2013 at 10:21 PM UTC
You came back,
Replied to that message.
The one I sent you 2 months ago.
The one that said
God. I miss you.
You answered,
I miss you too.
I asked if you really did.
You told me
*I don't know. Maybe.*
That was all I needed to walk away.
Oct 4, 2013
Oct 4, 2013 at 10:15 PM UTC
These bruises covering my body are nothing
compared to the ones all over my heart.
Sep 30, 2013
Sep 30, 2013 at 7:38 PM UTC
We get thrown down.
Beaten, bruised, and abused.
We get pushed around.
Told that we're wrong.
That everything we do is completely wrong.
Even when we're right,
We're still dead wrong.
We're shaped by pressure.
Pressure from society to fit in.
Pressure from teachers to succeed.
Pressure from parents to be perfect.
But we are strong.
We are perfect in our flaws.
We don't have to listen.
You don't want to wear skinny jeans?
Then don't.
You want to save yourself for marriage?
I'm ******* proud of you.
You don't make straight A's?
That's completely okay.
You don't have to be what everyone else wants.
You are a fighter.
We are fighters.
We will be okay.
Everything will be okay.
Sep 30, 2013
Sep 30, 2013 at 6:22 PM UTC