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shadesofwrong
Language enthusiast
I had a funny thought tonight when I saw a shooting star, I remembered that time in your driveway when we were saying goodnight, We kissed and hugged and kissed some more, Then you looked at me and promised that you'd love me for forever, I laughed and said "you too" because you'd said that a million times, I'm not sure why but then I think we both felt kind of sad, Maybe it was that we loved each other so much that it hurt, But then you looked at me and said "look up at the sky and count to three, if we see a shooting star it means we're meant to be together forever" I remembered that tonight when I saw that shooting star, Then I laughed a little to myself, I guess I just thought it was kinda funny how I've gone from having moments like that, To being on Tinder
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Feb 10, 2016
Feb 10, 2016 at 11:00 PM UTC
Something Funny
It's not the poison that it's poisoning you Is the reason why you take the poison
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Feb 10, 2016
Feb 10, 2016 at 10:37 PM UTC
Poison
For me, you are Sunday. Today is Sunday, and tomorrow will be Sunday. Because I am stuck in gingham yellow sheets, small white saucers with matching ceramic cups, cigarette ashes like a crop circle around them as I sip homemade coffee. The ***** brown liquid sloshing in the back of my throat, scorching my insides as I swallow something not nearly as painful as looking up for an answer to the crossword and realizing you are not in fact actually there, and your hand is not on my thigh, tracing the outline of my knee with your thumb. I am stuck like a kid on the monkey bars. Deciphering between reaching my hand out to grab the next rung or just allowing myself to fall into the wood chips, welcome that scraped skin and soil in the worry lines of my palms. Because calling you, reaching out to that line, could end with me face up on my bed staring at the blades of my fan trying to pinpoint just one to follow around and around again. Or I could get your voicemail. Or you could see my number and decide to hang up. How close were we really anyway? Or you could answer and we could talk through how bad the weather is, how we've been doing, and then get to the poignant silence, that hum in the background that coils through the wires into my ear, down the canal, and sinks into my heart until the pressure becomes too much. Until I tell you that its Sunday. That I need the 1994 Tony Award winning musical for 3 across, and hopefully, you'll give me the right answer.
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Feb 10, 2016
Feb 10, 2016 at 10:22 PM UTC
Sunday Morning
i feel insignificant yet i'm certain that everyone's staring i feel burdened, tethered down but i could disappear without anyone caring i feel overwhelmed and underwhelmed, so sure i'm missing something at least i think i'd feel these things, if i didn't just feel nothing
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Feb 10, 2016
Feb 10, 2016 at 10:16 PM UTC
apathy
i don't want to be consoled i don't want cliched advice i don't want to cope i just want to not care about you and her about the way you'll call her baby and how you'll give her my words about how your mom may love her more and your friends all think she's hot about how when she stares into your eyes she might notice my favorite freckle i don't want to hear it i don't want to see it but most of all i just really don't want to care
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Dec 31, 2015
Dec 31, 2015 at 2:58 PM UTC
Untitled
What I was never brave to say I never meant to hurt you I know the pain you felt that day I wish I could turn back time But the cogs of the clock don't work that way I wish I could undo all the wrong But I hear you have a different tune to play I never meant those dreadful lies But I thought I would hurt you anyway So I'd better do it now so you'd know That I hurt those close to me afraid that they won't stay Everyone abandons me unless I hurt them first But I realise I only hurt more that way So can you ever forgive me? I hope it isn't too late to say I'm sorry for the lies I told that day
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Dec 31, 2015
Dec 31, 2015 at 2:42 PM UTC
What I Was Never Brave Enough To Say
It was May, but we drove out to the shore anyway in my big sweater and purple cotton scarf wrapped around my neck, holding it up to my chin as we waited for the heat to start up in the car. My breath looked like a cloud when I laughed, my lips two inches from yours as I pulled you by the strings of your black sweatshirt. I grabbed two bags of sour patch kids, trying to throw them sideways into your mouth as you drove, a scattered trail of neon green and yellow left on the foot mat under the wheel, two our three stuck between the crease in your seat. I know it wasn't sunny, but I swear it tried to peak through the overcast, or maybe the gray sheen of it off the pavement is what made your face shine. Your black hair looked so cool on your pale skin, yelling at me to get my ***** red sneakers off the dashboard. I tried to write a little poem on your hand with my fingers as it traced your bones like a maze while you let it rest on the console. We played that CD from that band I didn't know you loved, and I promise I ******* up all the words, but I just like to hear your try to sing over me. I made you swear not to splash me when we tried to let the ocean kiss our toes, a salty welcome to the love affair I had with the way you made me bite my lip when I almost smiled too much at the way your eyes moved when you talked about one of your favorite things or about how big the ocean was and how small you were, even if you never said it just like that. I could tell what you meant. You did it anyway. The water was so cold on my cheeks, my ribs clashing into one another like a song my head hadn't had the time to learn yet. You held them in place while holding me. You kissed the summer from my lips and asked the sun to come out just for a moment while I made tiny castles out of pink shells and faded driftwood pieces leftover from the winter. We ran out of iced tea so we drank each other in, in layers, on the sand with our jeans rolled up to our ankles, letting the mask of almost blue skies envelope us in a Saturday afternoon spent figuring out little things like old memories or each other's favorite movies.
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Dec 31, 2015
Dec 31, 2015 at 2:29 PM UTC
Coloring
It was May, but we drove out to the shore anyway in my big sweater and purple cotton scarf wrapped around my neck, holding it up to my chin as we waited for the heat to start up in the car. My breath looked like a cloud when I laughed, my lips two inches from yours as I pulled you by the strings of your black sweatshirt. I grabbed two bags of sour patch kids, trying to throw them sideways into your mouth as you drove, a scattered trail of neon green and yellow left on the foot mat under the wheel, two our three stuck between the crease in your seat. I know it wasn't sunny, but I swear it tried to peak through the overcast, or maybe the gray sheen of it off the pavement is what made your face shine. Your black hair looked so cool on your pale skin, yelling at me to get my ***** red sneakers off the dashboard. I tried to write a little poem on your hand with my fingers as it traced your bones like a maze while you let it rest on the console. We played that CD from that band I didn't know you loved, and I promise I ******* up all the words, but I just like to hear your try to sing over me. I made you swear not to splash me when we tried to let the ocean kiss our toes, a salty welcome to the love affair I had with the way you made me bite my lip when I almost smiled too much at the way your eyes moved when you talked about one of your favorite things or about how big the ocean was and how small you were, even if you never said it just like that. I could tell what you meant. You did it anyway. The water was so cold on my cheeks, my ribs clashing into one another like a song my head hadn't had the time to learn yet. You held them in place while holding me. You kissed the summer from my lips and asked the sun to come out just for a moment while I made tiny castles out of pink shells and faded driftwood pieces leftover from the winter. We ran out of iced tea so we drank each other in, in layers, on the sand with our jeans rolled up to our ankles, letting the mask of almost blue skies envelope us in a Saturday afternoon spent figuring out little things like old memories or each other's favorite movies.
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53
I must have known how to breathe before I knew you but now I'm not sure
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Dec 7, 2015
Dec 7, 2015 at 9:38 PM UTC
Must Have Known
She had starfish in her eyes And she was eager and impatient When daydreaming About being And falling In love And she gave herself Freely and easily And found tears And heartache More often than not But she never did break And you can always find her At the end of the ocean Gazing and dreaming Through her starfish eyes
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Dec 6, 2015
Dec 6, 2015 at 10:33 PM UTC
Starfish Eyes
I wish to close my eyes and bask bask under the warmth of the sun ignoring the due dates and time constraints feeling only the warm embrace I wish to close my eyes and play to play with the bright reds and oranges and yellows watch them fade in and fade out. to squeeze my eyes tightly and experiment with the different color variations the tighter I squeeze the darker the reds and browns and blacks the lighter I squeeze the more yellows and oranges shine through I wish to feel the wind as well to feel the wind rush back and forth throwing my hair against my face I wish to squeeze my eyes tightly one last time then open them widely to see the grass as green as a late June afternoon to see the sky as blue as a Floridean sea to feel and see and be at peace at home swinging when I was six and didn’t have due dates
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Dec 6, 2015
Dec 6, 2015 at 12:11 PM UTC
Squeeze Tight