You get thought of everyday.
And as I scroll through our messages I realize all the **** we have been through
But it only goes back so far.
For in april when you said to forget about you...
I made the attempt to do so.
I erased you from my life.
I erased the messages.
I erased your number.
...
I didn't know that that wouldn't be the last time your number would be in my phone.
I didn't know we would share the night with eachother months after that.
I didn't know your fingers would please my womanhood for the hundredth time.
I didn't know our tongues would dance together for the thousandth time.
I didn't know our bodies would interlock for the millionth time.
I thought we were over...
But we weren't. and im not really sure who's fault that is.
Who is to blame for this continued affair?
Is it the one in lust or the one in love?
Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 11:02 AM UTC
Sometimes I lay on my bed and stare out my window.
I wonder what you're doing
I wonder if you ever think of me...
Of us.
You are so good at pretending...
But me; not so much.
Whenever I see you.
Or say your name
My heart jumps and my stomach flutters.
Whenever I think of you
I relive all the times we've talked,
Touched...
Kissed.
I hate to admit it but I miss it.
I miss sneaking out with you and running away to the park.
I miss laying in your arms as we stared into the stars.
I miss...February. And March. And July. And August.
That's the truth.
I miss when we had something...
Even if that something was hardly anything to you...
It was everything to me.
April, May and June...
When we became nothing...
When that something we had was just a dream for you
And a bitter sweet reality for me...
When we became strangers...
Life hurt.
My eyes grew tired
And my face began to wash away the smile I had painted on.
You were once the reason I stopped cutting...
And why I was happy.
Then you became just another reason for me to hack away at my skin again.
I don't think you realize how much you broke me.
But then again maybe you didn't...
Maybe you just helped me...
Sometimes...I lay on my bed and think of you.
Sometimes...I let the sunlight that shines through my window dance along my forearm.
Sometimes...I can still make out the scars.
And that's when it comes to my mind.
And I wonder...
Does he even think about me...about what we used to be?
Does it ever come to his mind, like it sometimes comes to mine?
Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 10:44 AM UTC
You cry. You feel like **** You constantly think about your mistakes. You go to school wanting to avoid everyone. Wishing you were somewhere else. You feel like cutting. And sometimes you give in but things distract you from the things that haunt you. And you end up smiling and forgetting for split seconds til you have motivation. And you give yourself a pep talk and everything seems to be okay.
Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 10:38 AM UTC
13 slices of hell embedded on my wrist,
glowing bright red from beneath my bracelets.
No matter how much I try to suppress her art...
She paints her master pieces like gems
hidden in the dark.
Lucent,my cuts are there and
she no longer wants to be concealed.
I pile on more bracelets.
Trying to contain her brilliant works of art.
But instead of disappearing...
she takes out brush ready to sear,
"Elizabeth,I want them to know that I'm here."
Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 8:02 PM UTC