Maybe now you'll begin to realize
why I can never take the word
"forever" too seriously by anyone.

Because we made promises too big
for our hearts
and reality has a harsh way
of not giving us what we want.

And even though I was the one
who called it off,
you were the one who left
months before,
leaving behind nothing but a ghost.

You always thought my words
were beautiful,
but will you still think the same
when they're written all about you?

-k.w//A Letter to my Recent Heartbreaker

You asked

"What's the scariest part?"

I answer;
"the scariest part is not the feeling of
loneliness
Or the darkness that fills you
despite the looming pain,
Of emptiness.

Th scariest part
Is the realization
That you have lost yourself
completely
Sinking in as you lay awake
At 2am
because you lost the ability to sleep
and you can't even try
because you don't even care."

there's people who only realize they miss you after they spend three drunken years without you. there's people who will never miss you, no matter how much of you they took, no matter how much they make you miss yourself and your sanity, not even after nine years. there's people who miss you all the time, even if they just saw you yesterday, even if you're standing in front of them. there's people you'll never feel complete without.
we all have that one person that our stomach clenches for.
we all have that one person who ****** us up completely, who ruined us for anyone else who might try to get close enough to touch us where it hurts, and where it doesn't.
we all have that one person who we say, "i still love you to death and everything, but not in the same way, not like before," to when they say "i just know some day i'm going to want something with you again".
for some reason, we always want to go back to what we know. we fear the unknown. we crave comfort and familiarity. we go through our days looking for something to call a home, a safe structure to seek warmth in when the streets of our heads start freezing. something we know. a home. we look for one in books, in movies, in music, in places, in people. people are dangerous. people are toxic. it's ******* unhealthy, the way i'm always trying to find redemption in people. i can't tell you how many strangers i have woken up next to without remembering ever falling asleep. they were never home. they were never you.
for a long time, i didn't know what home was supposed be. everything -everyone- always felt so temporary. i led a nomadic lifestyle. i spent a lot of time with people with hazy eyes who laughed while blowing smoke between their teeth and woke up on floors. i spent a lot of time with people who didn't mind walking through graveyards in the middle of the night. i spent a lot of time with people who didn't mind me laying on their driveway and who were willing to let me wear their shoes when my feet got too cold. i spent a lot of time with people who didn't understand any of it. i spent a lot of time with people who didn't care to. then, i spent a lot of time on my own. i learned a lot about how to be with people when i was busy being alone.
there's comfort in lonesomeness,
not in the same way that there's comfort in waking up next to a person who loved you enough to lay on a bathroom floor with you after pinning you down to a bed and punching holes in the walls when you couldn't find the answers he thought he deserved, but in the same way that there's comfort in wanting to wake up next to a person who you love enough to let him touch you where it hurts, and where it doesn't.
a sense of home is something we create because it's something we yearn for. home is anywhere you want lay your head down to rest at night. home is anywhere your feet touch. home is the boy whose kisses linger, who smiles when he looks at you and traces star patterns on your back. home is safety.  home is what we know, and familiarity is strange.

Isn't it funny,
that walking through a
sun-stained, dripping golden
heat garden full of
green and green and green and
pops of
viridian veins
bursting in quiet,
outstretching desire to
feel the warmth of fire of the
closest, neighbor star
that

I find
myself
more lonely
more confused and
for lack of understanding,
hopelessly wondering
what it is, next to
flowers, I am supposed
to do?

Flowers live and drink the sun and God,
to be a flower too.