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thefirstfall
thefirstfall
Wandering, confused, eternally rad and hopelessly in love. Overthinks a lot and cries too often.
I see you, you say nothing. No hi. No nothing. (I haven't seen you for what feels like a millennium.) You just stand there. Hello? I call to you. You respond. You walk away. I hug you, you do nothing. No return. No nothing. (I haven't given you a proper hug since that Sunday where I cried like a child.) You just stand there. Hello? I call to you. You respond. You're quiet. I touch you, you do nothing. No return. No nothing. (I haven't touched you, properly touched you, for months.) You just stand there. Hello? I call to you. You respond. You move away. I say I love you. I say I love you, so god **** much. ( I love you.) Hello? I call to you. You don't respond.
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Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 1:49 AM UTC
help me out.
You've always reminded me of a forest. Not because of your chestnut hair. Not because of the branches of your fingers. Not because of the roots that show on the tops of your hands. But because of the way I can never understand you. Sometimes, I think I do. Sometimes I feel that I've laid my path of bread down behind me. Sometimes I think I know the way out. But then the birds of your being devour my pathway. They come and they go and they leave me all alone. Lost. And then I'm stuck. I don't know where I am. All alone. But then I remember. I am lost in the forest of you, and you can't help, because trees can't talk, to me. And that's the thing. You've never really spoken to me about anything. I remember once you told me that you wanted to cut your roots and leave. That you weren't needed here. That you wouldn't be remembered. I told you that was a lie to befit Tony Abbott. You didn't believe me. Do you believe me now? Do you believe me when I say that your being here has planted seeds in my heart on soil I thought was barren? Do you believe me when I say that the way you make -feel- has sprouted blossoms in the corners of my mind where the sun has never shone? Do you believe me when I say that your absence would start the logging of my soul, cutting down what I thought was impenetrable? You're stubborn. You're confusing. But you're solid. You don't let anything through your walls. And that's why you've always reminded me of a forest.
0
Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 1:46 AM UTC
let me say
We couldn't go back Even if we wanted to.
0
Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 8:22 AM UTC
.
I hope you fall in love. Real, proper love. I hope you fall in love with someone who hears symphonies in your heartbeats and sees nebulae in your eyes. Someone who will go with you on those wondrous trips you've always dreamed of. I hope you find the person who will fit into the piece of your heart you've desperately been trying to fill for so long. I hope you fall in love with someone who deserves every beautiful, ******* piece of you, but most of all? I hope you fall in love with someone who falls in love with you.
0
Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 8:20 AM UTC
Please
Hey, I'm really glad we're talking like we are. [delete] I know what you're feeling. [delete] I feel the exact same. [delete] Yes, I know how much you like this girl. [delete] I'm sure she knows too. [delete] Is it me? [delete] It's you, you bumbling idiot. [delete] I love the way you fumble and the way you mumble. [delete] I kind of really love you. [delete] I love the way you look at me. [delete] I love the freckle on your thigh. [delete] I love the way you touch me. [delete] I love the way you sigh. [delete] I love how you laugh with me. [delete] I love how much I try. [delete] Hey, it's been a while. How have you been? [delete] Hi. [delete] I really miss you, man. Please come back. [delete] I love you. [delete] Why the **** do you keep acting like this? [delete] Am I the problem? [delete] So do you intend to **** me up the way you do, messing with my god **** mind? [delete] You love her, you like me. [delete] I hate the way you look at her. [delete] I hate all of your lies. [delete] I hate the way you touch her. [delete] I hate the way she sighs. [delete] I hate how you laugh with her. [delete] I hate how much I try. [delete] I hate how much I love you. [delete]
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May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 3:34 AM UTC
How I really felt
You look good (But you don't look great) How have I been keeping (I'm preoccupied) Caught up in lesser things (Feeling overwhelmed) Starting a whole new story (And you've stayed perfect) I'm sure that you've been well (And writing a whole new life) How are your mum and dad? (What about that brother?) Will you go back to England? (Will you go to Rome?) I know that you'll choose wisely (I hope you die alone) Will you make it home alright? (I want you to disappear) I'll hope to see you soon (Please won't you fade away?) So I guess this is bye (For the very last time) Have a brilliant night (And get out of my life) Goodbye (Goodbye.)
0
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 3:27 AM UTC
Misread
Hearts dancing to their frantic rhythms Hands exploring vast lands
0
May 18, 2014
May 18, 2014 at 2:24 AM UTC
Untitled
He was beautiful But in the ways you'd think He was beautiful In the sense that his words tasted like a hurricane The way his lips brushed mine with the feeling of security That everything would be okay again He was beautiful In the way he carried an air of timeless empathy about him How he felt against the rhythmic beating of my heart He was beautiful in the way he was there through my bad ideas And in our time together I had many bad ideas He was beautiful Because he knew what I needed to hear The words he last spoke to me He was beautiful Because he refused to taste the sadness as it crept up inside Even when it was the last thing I gave to him.
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May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 12:49 AM UTC
Untitled
Boy, I'll tell you what we were. We were the puddle, but never the rain. The shadow, but never the light. Boy, we were the leaves, spiralling downwards, But never the tree. We were the whisper, but never the words. We were sparks, just after the fire had died,, and only ash and smoke were left. The quiet expectation between the roaring thunder. We were a thought, slipping off a tongue. A question, but never an answer. Boy, we were always what could've been Except sometimes, we were.
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May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 12:36 AM UTC
This is what we were