Fractured pieces of a fairytale lie in front of me.
The broken boy meets the broken girl and they stitch up their pieces while substituting lust instead of love.
We watched the secret gardens bloom and the paths fill with overgrowth that was never tended too.
I love you finally felt underrated & i one this drowning feeling was the emotions I kept hidden for so long trying to surface too quickly.
I stopped believing in fairytales when I was the young age of seventeen. When I watched the prince take his arrows and shoot me in the heart over and over again.
When I realized all the my friends men were nothing but liars and cheats.
I stopped believing in romance at the young age of twenty two. When I gave that prince another chance and he dug the knife deeper in my back than anyone else has ever done. When I started to notice the Icy chill run through my spine in each new bed I would try.
Here I am the ripe age of twenty eight trying to solve the puzzle of lust and love at first site and wondering if there is such thing. Wondering if maybe there is a chance for salvation and happiness somewhere down the overgrown path we haven’t taken.
That maybe, just maybe, that broken boy and that broken girl can hold hands and walk the wild path together.
That maybe, just maybe, we can wander the secret gardens and plant our own seeds of beauty.
But, then again, aren’t we just two lost souls desperately trying to find ourselves in the end?
These downers have me laying in bed watching light flares float across my room like the ghosts of my past float across my eyelids.
And I’m convinced these drugs aren’t going to get you out of my head anymore.
The rooms too hot and I’m too cold and I’m crawling towards the kitchen begging for someone to get me some ****** water but then I remember....
it’s just me as usual.
I get up and take control of the situation and find some uppers in the hall and ask myself if maybe we can work through this or maybe I’m just high enough to think you’re still around.
I’m drowning in a bathtub full of rose petals I found under the sink and I’m staring at the water drip down the shower walls as I watch my inevitable breakdown drip down my eyelids.
I guess I’m convinced these drugs just made things worse and I’m convinced I gotta get my **** together... I gotta get myself together.
I sit in a dark room digging up old memories that I had thought were forever in the grave.
Thai food and coffee surrounds me and in a quick minute I have never felt lonelier then I do now.
I watch old shows we used to make fun of and write stories of love that has never and most likely will never happen for me.
My thoughts are ancient memories like the dinosaurs or the Pyramids- wonders and mysteries I’ll never truly solve.
As the light from the tv shines over me, and I cuddle up with a glass of wine- I truly wonder if I’ll ever make it past this haunting nostalgia....
or will I forever be stuck to endure the ghosts and nightmares of a life that never was and probably never will be.
Maybe it was the sleepy way your voice would read me to sleep each night but I was pretty sure I had never known love until then.
It could have been the way you brought me hot chocolate with whipped cream when I was sad because you know those little things mean everything.
And I’m not sure really when it began but I know that once I looked into those eyes I felt my whole world tilt and turn.
I’ve spent my whole life trying to find words to explain love and how it feels.
Little did I know the words were already written they were just being read by the wrong narrator for my story.
There’s something nocturnal about our love.
The way I sit awake at 2 am dreaming of the perfect sunrise to paint you.
Or the way your lips always taste a little sweeter after 3 am.
It could be the way your mouth moves a little lower when we get closer to 4 am.
But maybes it’s the way you look when you fall asleep around 5 am.
I guess the simplicity of our relationship is what kept me around for so long.
But now I see the flaws and the possibilities of us never growing and it’s making me want to run.
Find someone who wants me at 7am when they just finish breakfast and are headed to work.
And they text me to check in by 8 am just to see how my day is going.
Or they sneak home on their break to kiss me at 9 am and whisper sweet nothings before leaving again.
It could be the way they text me again by 10am and tell me they love me when I head to work.
Maybe I just need a love that’s a bit brighter.
Maybe it was the hazy Sunday morning bliss or the cicadas screaming their annoying lullaby but I found myself drawn to the woods.
Streams of blue and green water and muddy paths that lead me back to sanity every time I come through.
My past has kept me locked in city streets with too many people and too many memories.
My present holds a sympathetic and nostalgic view for the things I love but also a craving for something vast and beyond.
As for my future if they ask me today I might just head to the woods and never leave.
I’ll become one with the moss on the trees and the mushrooms in the ground.
I’ll be the composure for the cicadas and the paint for the sunsets and sunrises.
Tonight we will dream of the right path to the New York life and the city dreams but tomorrow we’ll find the left path holds the cure to the soul in the trees.
I wasn’t just another museum tour you had on your list.
You don’t get to come through here with your bright words and advanced vocabulary telling me how things should have been and where we should be.
You don’t get to come in and destroy my artwork as if I didn’t spend my whole life creating it from the ground up.
I am celestial.
I am the 8th wonder of the world.
I am a temple of power and femininity that your mind will never understand.
I wasn’t just a solar system you thought you had the right to explore.
You don’t get to set up camp and experiment and write stories about me as if I wasn’t real.
You don’t get to see the light and the stars of mind and then use them for some ultimate power move.
I am a ******* privilege.
I am a ******* planet.
I am a ******* black hole of love and destruction that you shouldn’t have messed with.
I wasn’t some church you thought you come to and atone and be forgiven for your sins just because you said some prayers.
You don’t get to come in here and demand forgiveness when you don’t deserve it.
You don’t get to come in here and disrespect all entities and gods and goddesses just because you don’t believe in a higher power.
I am a goddess.
I am my own deity.
I am a power of worship and peace that your heart will never understand.
I am so much more then the girl to a man with such a simple mind.
The anatomy of ones heart seems complicated and intense.
The valves and the tubes and the scars from time taking its toll.
The blood and the veins helping to keep one alive.
The memories it holds and the heartbreak it endures and thrives from over and over again.
But the anatomy of my heart is simple.
It’s filled with trees billowing and waving in the wind.
It has salt water from the bluest oceans flowing through the veins keeping me afloat with summer dreams.
It has been slowly and faster in the throes of passion and in the woes of pain.
It has shown me that through adventure and wonder I can keep myself alive.
So tell me... how does the anatomy of your heart look?
The prettiest sunset I had ever seen was during the largest fire we had had in a long time.
It was smoke covered reds and pinks and yellows.
It was hazy blues and darkening grays.
It was as if the sky was screaming for help while it was also fading away hoping sleep would clear the bad dreams.
And all the while I watched the sun set and the colors fade to night and I knew...
that even the worst of days can fade into something peaceful for even just one moment.
And I knew... that my bad day would burn out like the fire one day...
I heard you weren't doing that great and part of me wanted to call and see just how bad you were but then I started thinking about a few of the things you ruined for me after you left.
The taste of cinnamon.
The pink pens in my bag.
Fireflies and small country towns.
The drive way at my parents house.
The old road you used to live on.
The fact that I feel you in every part of this ****-hole town.
I heard from an old friend things were getting better for you now and I think... it's for the best that we never speak again.
Truly, it was complicated.
It was oranges and blues so contrasting I couldn't tell if it was summer or winter.
It was the smell of lemons and the taste of sugar, but was it really lemonade or poison in disguise?
Captured memories in photographs around the walls of this cage.
I wanted to run.
I need to run.
The wind picked up outside and my urge to move cam as fast as the storm.
It was always so complicated.
I never understood why we couldn't just slow down and dream a little.
Slow down and feel a little.
Truly, It was complicated.
It was New York.
La vie en rose playing in the background as you read a script you wrote the morning before.
The way your blue eyes look so sad and yet so peaceful and you smirk for me and me alone.
The way your hands are rougher then they should be but touch me softer then they should as well.
We were passing cars in the night.
Looking for each other as destinations we would never get too.
It was North Carolina.
It was green. So much green.
It was airports that seemed to hold too many tears and not enough smiles.
It was road trips that blossomed into a never ending love and irrational fear.
It was summer in July and the way your lips found mine in every moment of every time.
You were the light I had been searching for my whole life.
And you became the darkness that was always there under my skin.
You are my unfinished book and my unfinished heart.
It was California.
It was never enough and thoughts that don’t ever truly go away.
It was watching you leave.
Your fresh start, your growth.
My jealousy, my envy.
My wishful and spiteful thoughts of wanting to be in your shoes but not wanting you enough.
It was Nevada.
Damaged and uncontrollable.
The never ending fighting and back and forth insecurities.
Your ability to make me swoon and cry in the one sitting was gold.
The unquestionable loyalty I had to ruining my own life.
The sadness and depression.
The love I had but never dared speak of.
The way you broke me down and don’t understand my feelings still to this day.
***** and *******.
Your true loves.
It was Me.
My will to love too much and yet not enough.
My hazel eyes and mismatched hair.
My gaze of sadness and darkness watching the men come and go from my life.
My inability to connect because of damaged heart strings.
It’s also my strength in finding my flaws.
The power I have to change.
The growth at self confidence and care I am working on.
It’s someday... someday finding someone who won’t leave.
Sunday light drenches the window where you may upon the unmade bed.
You and your roughed up hair.
Watching the sun bathe your skin you smell like musky woods and fresh rain and I want to capture it in a bottle forever.
It could be our secret.
It could be just for me & you.
Saturday is fragmented glimpses of our future and I know that when we awake the morning will have to keep the secrets of the night before.
My body tangled in your black sheets.
Strands of vanilla and lavender scented hair scattered around your bed.
Your arms graze my fire skin and I am alive with lust and hints of love.
Sunday holds the key to happiness.
Sunday’s were made for love.
She was fascinating.
Not because she was drop dead gorgeous or oh my god beautiful.
No, she had humor she used as a weapon.
No, she had love she used a shield.
No, she had strength hidden behind layers of wisdom.
She was fascinating.
In the way that made men cringe and made women envious.
She was the type of girl you wanted to get to know if only to keep her close by.
It was like strawberries and champagne.
It was like the taste of sugar when my lips pressed against yours.
It was like the rush of *******.
It was the morning air filled with regret and sorrow.
It was the way you touched me that made me heart race.
It was the look you gave me when you said you wouldn't be back tomorrow.
I like the games, they keep me on my toes.
but i hate the way my heart feels when we are done.
I like the games but they fill me with woes.
It was like strawberries and smoke.
It was the way you asked me my name when we first met.
It was the way i wished you'd just choke.
emotions are high.
I am high.
My life... is low.
And in this weird dream I had things were brightly technicolor and everything played out so smooth.
It was strange and yet warm.
It was soft and beautiful.
But of course, I knew it was a dream, because you chose to stay with me.
You chose to sleep in late and I would wake you up with breakfast in bed.
You chose to skip work so we could go see a movie together and we laughed and kissed.
You chose to hold my hand and pulled me up towards your bedroom again and again.
It was strange.
It was soft and beautiful.
It was just a dream.
We drink to forget the day to day routine's we have locked ourselves into.
We drink to remember the better days but if we drink too much it just makes it worse.
We drink to get rid of the nerves and hope it makes us charming and funny.
He asked me out for drink; so we drank.
He was beautiful in a classy way.
I loved his hair and those bright eyes and the drinks made him funnier then he was but I liked how he tried.
He told me stories about Christmas when he was ten.
He told me about his scars and his weird quirks people don't tend to notice.
He asked me for drinks and so, I drank.
I didn't tell him about Christmas when I was ten because my Christmas was filled with anger and screaming from my mother.
I didn't tell him about my scars because they came from drunken nights and fights with myself.
I didn't tell him about my quirks because I didn't have to tell him, he just seemed to know.
He told me I was quiet, something no one has ever told me before.
I smiled shyly and ordered another drink.
He grabbed my hand at the bar and I thought, wow, this is nice.
I also thought... how sad that a simple gesture can make me so self conscience and so sad.
How holding a beautiful, nice, and funny mans hand makes me think I am unworthy of such love.
And, so, I drank.
To... try and not self sabotage the possibility of a love that could last.
The summer in Texas took everything it could from me -- my confidence, my soul, and all the sweat my body could produce.
But it also showed me happiness.
It showed me lake days and laughter, drinking in the sand with my best friend, and searching for alligators in a swamp.
It showed me that sometimes you need to go to Louisiana and gamble until 3 am then drive three hours back home.
Reminiscing about your youth and making new inside jokes to talk about later.
The summer in Texas showed me good food and country music is something I didn't know I was missing from my life.
Showed me dancing on rooftops and art all over downtown Dallas and in Austin too.
This was a year I will never forget-- dreaming of new beginnings and spending a year with my best friend just being twenty something year old for the first time in our life.
A year spent remembering who we are and trying to grow instead of putting ourselves down.
There were nightmares about you and then there were dreams that made me cry with joy.
You had the most perfect smile.
You had the most perfect net to catch me in.
There were memories flooding my brain every night and then there was the moment I thought I could swim to the top of them only to drown.
You were making it hard to breathe.
You were making it hard to let you go.
I wanted so badly to run to the other side of the country and demand that you hashed things out with me.
I wanted to use a couple plays from your book of tricks but I knew that my plays would be flawed and we would lose the game.
My friends told me I was too angry to start discussing things right now.
My friends told me I was too impulsive and maybe they were right.
But, baby, love makes you do crazy things.
And, baby, I am crazy about you.
Stood at the top of this interstate highway thinking... I need to scream.
I need to let the world know I am going to get there.
I need to let you know you have no control.
I needed to escape my control.
I didn't know I needed to get to this point until the cars below me were going 100 miles per hour and I was standing above the moving lights.
Stood at the top of this mountain and I looked down at the valley below thinking... I need to cry.
I need to cry for myself and the girl I wanted to be.
I need to cry for you... and how you left.
I need to cry for everyone else to know that things are going to get better.
I didn't know I needed to get to this point until the sweat was dripping from my forehead and I was breathing in the fresh air around me.
Stood at the foot of my bed staring at the rumpled sheets from last nights conquest thinking... I have to ******* stop.
I have to stop trying to run from the pain in every body that finds me attractive.
I have to stop trying to substitute *** for love because I am almost sick of them both equally.
I have to stop putting myself down.
I didn't know I needed to get this point until I was laying in bed with a man I didn't care to even get to know.
I can handle the impossible- the scary, the dark, and the loneliness that makes you feel consumed in every room.
I can handle the feeling of never being good enough, the never understanding everything, and the anxiety.
I cannot handle the unknown- the do you still love me? the do you still think about me? the questions that never have answers no matter how much you want them.
I've been swimming up the current and swallowing all the water that threatens to drown me.
I have been running uphill screaming at the top of my lungs, gasping for that breath that will calm my heart down a little bit.
I have been trying so ******* hard and you are still hiding in the corners of my brain that shouldn't have corners.
I can handle the impossible and the anxiety... but I need to know if you love me still.
Tell me how it feels when you slide into bed at night knowing you lied to everyone you've ever loved?
Tell me does it hurt when your mom is overly religious and you believe she is insane?
Tell me does it hurt when your dad is too zoned out in old war movies to even notice you're crying in the corner?
I've never dealt with your pain.
My family was open and honest and accepting of who I was and wanted too be.
I've never dealt with your pain of finding something, anything, to get you through the day without the inside of your head screaming at you.
But, I have dealt with the sadness.
I have dealt with the anxiety of not being good enough.
So I say to you, you are not alone.
And when the sun shines but all you see is grey and sadness; I will be there for you.
Keep putting on a good front, let the world see that gleaming, brilliant smile you wear so well.
Let the laughter pour out like the drinks that keep sliding towards you on that bar.
Please, continue to be the class clown, make them laugh, make them wonder how you're oh, so, cool.
You put on a good front, babe.
You sure made them believe.
You put on a perfect smile, babe.
You sure let them wonder.
But I know you better then they do.
I know that smile hides sadness and fear of never being perfect.
I know those eyes hide hate for yourself and where you're at in life.
So, go ahead babe, put on that smile you wear so well.
Please let them see you laughing because god forbid they see you cry.
Continue being the confident one because we know the rest of us need a little more help.
Just remember the next time you talk about me, you're just as afraid of failing as I am.
that the one man to tell me he loved my body
was the one man
who was the worst for me.
that the one man I wanted to give my heart too
decided destroying it was easier
then loving it.
that the one man who dedicates songs and poems to me
is the one man
who I can't seem to fall in love with.
that the girl who needs me to love her
is the one person
I can't seem to find love for.
I wanted love like Sunday morning.
Coffee filling the house, the smell of bacon cooking, and a breeze through the windows.
I wanted love like Sunday afternoon.
Jazz playing on the record player, white sheets crumpled under our bodies, and the waves outside our perfect home.
I wanted love like Sunday night.
Wine glasses clinking together, fingers laced together, and crickets chirping in the meadow.
I wanted love like a Sunday morning...
What I wanted to say was " leave me alone. I'm no good for you."
but what came out was " I love you too."
What I needed to say was lost behind a tiny glass screen that was much to easy to break.
What I needed you to see was thousands of miles away and forever emotionally unavailable to you.
What you needed to hear was something I have told you a thousand times before but they say love makes you blind.
And with this, I wondered if maybe I was also blind to the man I loved.
Maybe he had told me just as many times as I had told you.
Maybe he was just a ruthless and heartless as I thought I was being with you and yet here I was doing exactly what you were doing with me but with him.
I bet what he wanted to say was -- " I don't love you and you need to get that through your head."
But what I kept hearing was -- "I'm just not ready right now."
I felt slightly uneasy and slightly confused.
I was disorientated and I couldn't figure out how to stand straight.
The empathy in the room was gone.
It was filled with soulless creatures I once called friends.
The devil danced on my back and I found myself watching all the people I once loved turning into people I wanted to destroy.
Little things set me off and my patience was thinner then paper.
I could see through the looking glass- my memories were just over the rabbit hole and beyond.
Instead, I slipped farther down and down into the core of the earth until the darkness took control.
I could feel the heat- the rising of anger and jealousy that kept me from being happy for them.
I hated them.
I wanted them out of my life.
But I kept them around to help fuel the fire that was keeping me alive.
I kept them there so when I went to bed lonely and sad - least I was warmed by bitterness.
I kept them so when the envious monster of jealously came pouring down my throat-- least I wouldn't be thirsty for something I knew I'd never have.
It doesn't take one thing to send you into the pessimistic oblivion you call life- it takes an avalanche.
It takes a hurricane of pain and sadness.
It takes a tornado of loneliness and pity.
It took a massive earthquake of people telling you over and over again things were going to be okay.
The devil is dancing on my shoulders again, and he's threatening me with the idea that if I just give up now- maybe I won't be alone forever.
That the ghost's and demons will keep me company.
That the memories will be enough to hold me over.
Maybe I'll let him win, maybe I won't.
Maybe someone will help me out of this mess I call life...
or Maybe they won't.
It took me far too long to learn
you are far more complicated and spectacular
than magic will ever be.
I think of him when its raining and the weather is gloomy and the clouds come in the surround me just like he did for a short, short while.
I imagine he is sitting somewhere in New York right now drinking some awful Gin and Tonic drink , writing something about some girl in a bar.
Or he's walking with his jacket high up over his neck day dreaming of his long lost Juliet or maybe he's scheming something more like Macbeth.
I like to think he thinks of me from time to time, the girl he sent poems to on Valentines Day, the girl he talked about loving the ocean more than life.
I know it's a bit narcissistic and a bit conceited but I like to think he know's I think of him from time to time.
When La Vie En Rose comes on and when I'm walking down the freshly rained on streets humming a tune.
When I am alone in my room contemplating how I couldn't make things work with good people or when I re read those poems I keep hidden away in my closet.
I imagine he's sitting in New York at some trendy, dive bar, making friends with the bartender telling stories about his life.
I imagine he's writing something about a girl he's currently in love with and the features that makes him swoon because one day he will give those poems to her for Valentines day as well.
I imagine that the day he finds the Juliet to his Romeo- he won't need to think of the girl whose too far away and in love with the ocean anymore.
You were gold
You were green
You were the chameleon in my dreams.
You were bright
You were beautiful
You were ripping apart at the seams.
You were simple
You were smart
You were sneaking off into the dark.
You were confused
You were content
You were the ember to my spark.
You were there
Then you were gone
You were the dream I didn't want to wake from.
Because what it comes down to is I am planning on drowning all my emotions.
You will need a submarine to find them at the bottom of the sea.
You will need the best diving equipment you can find to get to them.
It's going to get cold down there, the deeper you go the darker it gets.
There will be unseen monsters that will make you want to run and hide by how they look alone.
It's going to get scary down there, you will find it harder and harder to move; harder to breathe.
If you ever make it to the bottom of the darkness, which no one ever has, I bet it's going to be something else.
I bet it has a lot of mystery.
Maybe it will be the key to getting out of the darkness and into the light?
Maybe it will hold the answers to the unknown we are so fond of getting lost in.
Because what it came down too was I would rather drown in the ocean of my fears then to continue to be lost at sea alone.
Twisted up from the inside like vines around the outside of my house.
I can see the horizon - morning is on the way and if i can just walk a little farther then i can find happiness...
I just know it!
Anxiety is melting my insides like the snow on the outside of my house.
I can see Spring is around the corner and if i just keep warm a little longer then I can find happiness...
I just know it!
It's loud and cracking the sidewalks are moving outside and its giving me a migraine.
I keep thinking the longer I hold on, the closer to happiness I will be.
But what if I am just sinking farther and farther into a sadness I haven't been formally acquainted with yet?
Candy coated tongue filled with sweet, rotting lies.
Ireland Green eyes with cavernous secrets deep inside.
Frosty demeanor, misty mountain moods, and perfectly sculpted arms.
How could a girl resist?
How could she ever forget?
I can say with the utmost certainty that the mirror is the only thing that doesn't lie to me these days.
You will find me in this darkened room with caffeine and nicotine damaging my body.
You can find me with ink stains on my fingertips and note books filled with art of my youth- drawings, poetry, stories, journal entries to remember my past.
I won't apologize for being me- curious, wild, and beyond normal repair.
I won't apologize for dreaming- wishing, memorizing the way your lips tasted, imaging your eyes.
You'll find me with a bottle of wine leaning against my turquoise colored wall singing songs of my youth.
You can find me lighting candles in the rain and opening all the windows not giving a **** about the damage it will have on my apartment.
I won't apologize for being me.
Closure came like the Winter.
I expected it but at the same time I was unprepared rushing to find a jacket for this cold that all of a sudden consumed my body.
He didn't have any answers so I learned to fix the locks without him.
I kept his excuses to throw out when Spring came around.
I had to learn to accept the bad days when I was confused and scared and all alone.
I had to learn how to accept that he would never give me the answers I was actually trying to get from myself.
I had to learn how to find the warrior inside me because sometimes love makes you weak and that's okay for a while.
Closure came like the Winter.
It left everything around me dead inside so that I could bloom again in the Spring.
When it's not so sad anymore I will show pictures of us to my future children.
I keep them hidden in 7 different folders on my computer to try and hide them from myself so I don't get weak and want to look at the better days.
I deleted you from social media, I blocked you, but as we all know that's a temporary solution to the bigger problem.
I always find love for you even when I hate you deep down inside- hidden under 7 layers of skin and memories.
When it's not so sad anymore I almost wish we would run into each other on the streets.
Maybe it won't be so awkward, I'll have moved on and you'll have moved on but maybe there will be a small spark still there.
When it's not so sad anymore, I will eventually delete those pictures from my memory and my computer.
I will find a way to permanently erase your love one of these days... maybe 7 months from now, maybe 7 years from now... someday.
We felt lost and we felt confused but we pushed through.
It was a cool autumn breeze- it smelled like apple cider and dead leaves.
It was brisk so we huddled together for warmth- your red cheeks mixed with mine so perfectly.
There was something about the way you hunched your shoulders- the lack of confidence when you should have had more was adorable.
There was something about the way your lips looked when you talked- I just wanted to kiss you so bad that day.
The sunset was orange and yellow with hints of pink- the storm was on the way but we held tight.
I lost my nerve when you held my hand on the way back to the car.
You smiled and I smiled... and it was just so simple.
You've been on my mind a lot these days and not your love or the lack of love I felt for you- just you in general.
The way you would dedicate certain songs to me and sing me the lyrics in the car and via phone.
The way you never really cared what anyone else thought about you- you were just you.
I was dreaming of you when La Vie En Rose came blaring through my speakers so smoothly.
I was wondering if you were thinking of me too when I'll Be Seeing You started playing slowly at the perfect time.
There are so many songs, and the music we played lying in bed.
The good moment instead of the bad moments.
The memories that made me laugh, instead of the ones that made me feel guilty.
Guilty for letting you love me and never returning anything back.
For using you for what I needed instead of returning the same care when you needed it.
We can't change the past but we can try again with someone new.
I just wanted you to know, I was thinking of you.
Dear Future Love of my life--
I will not wait around like I did with all my lovers before.
I will not be the girl who you talk to randomly for two days then stop.
I will not let you guide my heart in the wrong directions again and again just because I am caring and kind.
I will either be your everything or I will be your nothing.
Your Future Lover
biggest pet peeve- Ignoring me.
tell me sweet love of mine-
aren't you tired of always asking the same question over and over again?
Spinning under the moon in your t-shirt- fireflies and windy songs flew around us while we danced.
Kisses under the stars and hand holding while we moved to your favorite song on the radio right now.
You and your smile always making me melt.
You and those eyes, always burning holes into my blush filled cheeks.
The way your hand felt on my lower back and the other one in my hair.
There was something about wearing your t-shirt to bed the scent of you washing me of all bad dreams I could ever have.
We wasted our youth on numbing the pain with alcohol and cigarettes.
We were young and naive.
You were charming, I was a mess, and we jumped into the flames together.
We wasted our twenties on screaming into almost full answering machines and bars with mindless conversations.
We were wild and free.
You were a mess, I was fed up, so we danced down dark alleys together singing rage filled songs to the moon.
We were best friends; we were trying to fight the same battle with scars across our wrists and blacked out livers as mementos from this war.
We were family; we were just filling up boxes with old pictures of smiling and happy birthday cards from a mother who was never around.
We were lovers; trying to scream ourselves back into each others arms in hope that we could be the heroes we always wanted.
We were the kids your parents warned you about.
The ones with the broken past and the empty futures they said.
The ones with the alcohol addictions and the drugs habits we refused to kick they said.
The ones who lived in the night, who danced in the shadows but dreamed of the next morning they would have to make it through.
Cheers to numbing the pain at the expense of our livers and wasting our youth on impossible dreams.
I'm sorry, but, I think I lost the set of rules that said I wasn't allowed to pick up the phone and call you when I felt like It.
I'm sorry, but, I think I lost the rule book that said I was only allowed to text you every two days or so.
We are in the new.
We are the modern dating - the **** dating- the "I like you right now but maybe not tomorrow" dating.
We are in the "I think I'm in love with you but don't actually know you" dating.
Maybe I'm a little pessimistic and sad and a little *******.
Maybe I'm just tired of my heart getting destroyed.
Maybe I just want someone to really get to know me instead of asking to see my ****.
I'm sorry, but, maybe you didn't get it when I said I wanted something real- no games, no playing around.
I'm sorry, but, maybe you didn't hear me when I said I want to get to know you or maybe you just ignored that part.
We are the new.
We are the Modern.
We are the ******* "Millennials" everyone talks **** about.
He was late to the war- the canons and guns have already started and the dust is settling in nice and cozy in his lungs.
He was falling apart- running across open fields with battle wounds surrounding every fallen solider he came across- there was so much blood.
He was crying on the inside but god forbid he showed those emotions on the open fields he and his brothers ran through.
He wasn't sure he would see his brothers and sisters all come out of this alive... he wasn't sure he would come out alive himself.
She was late to the war she was covered in dirt and oil from the ***** planes she helped gear up every long twelve plus hour shift.
She heard the engines start, she saw the wheels move and the ocean under the boat seemed more peaceful then the open space above.
She saw her wounded brothers and sisters being dragged out of whats left of the planes landing feeling their pain as blood smeared across the top deck.
She smelled the gas as the planes started moving towards the edge of the boat and she knew there wasn't time to think- only time to move.
They fought and some survived and some didn't make it back home to their families.
They fought tooth and nail, blood and skin- heart and soul.
They were wives and husbands, brothers and sisters, sons and daughters, lovers and fighters.
They were more than a flag.
They were more than a country with a big name.
Dancing through the bright and loud New York streets my little gypsy queen floated by with her camera in hand.
Snapping memories here and there she found love around those ***** streets and neon lights.
He tried to grab her waist and pull her in but she was too preoccupied with the memories she was making.
Her hair sparkled like glitter and her smile could make the ice caps melt.
Singing to the beat of the sirens and the moving to the beat of the traffic she weaved in and out of local shops like the complex braids in her hair.
She was the queen of the grungy corner kids waiting for one more cigarette.
She was the goddess of adventure and the muse to all who craved the lust of life.
She was the Gypsy.
She was the Artist.
Dancing through the crowded New York underground, my little gypsy queen was unbelievably and undeniably herself in every way possible.
I remember the day you gave me the first set of red roses- you did it on New years because you always said Holidays were easier to remember-
I remember the feeling's I got-
Anxiety of being treated with such love.
I remember the second time you gave me red roses- it was after we broke up for the third time- you promised we would work it out this time.
I remember the feeling's I got-
Anxiety at thinking It wasn't going to get better.
I remember the last time you gave me flowers, my favorite daisies, you were moving across the country.
I remember the feelings I got-
Anxiety at knowing this was the last time we would ever have to fix us.
I don't blame you for retreating and hiding away.
I don't blame you for not wanting this to work out.
I do however blame you for making me feel worthless in the process.
I do blame you for the fact that I will forever question any man who gives me flowers and whether for not he is going to leave and never come back.
What do you do when you're--
loopy with feelings,
completely and utterly,
What do I do about the-
thoughts in my head,
screaming and yelling,
that I need to stop fearing the word,
He's wonderful and perfect and--
as sweet as pie,
as cute as a button,
and I simply adore everything about
I can't blame you for losing yourself and hiding in the closet with those skeletons you keep.
It's summer out here in Texas and the weather is frying my spirit and the confidence I had is pouring down my face with shame.
I can't blame you for spilling your guts to me when you needed it most; I'm sorry I couldn't do the same.
It's snowing back home in September and I am over here hiding my face from the world wishing I could wear a mask permanently sometimes.
I can't blame you for running away- I ran the same direction but stopped a little too soon I think...
Hard times will make you wonder how you survived when you're on the edge of the cliff and can see rock bottom just below.
I can't blame you for hating me, but you can't blame me for wishing you didn't.
I can't blame you for having nothing to say because you were the water to my garden but I'm drowning.
I cannot bloom, my petals are falling off day by day and this Texas heat has me lethargic and depressed.
Soon I'll be heading home, back to the desert where my soul remains.
I know the the things you'll say.
I can hear them in the back of my head, but the times have changed.
I can't blame you for running away... but I am running back home now.
Why do we let them have the power to
tear us apart?
bring us to our knees?
lower our self-respect?
Why did I let you tell me it was
all my fault?
Green eyes- demons hidden in the jewels of your life- little does she know you wear contacts and they are fake.
Sandy hair- soft and smooth- little does she know you color it- also fake.
Strong arms- they can wrap themselves around you- little does she know you wrapped them around your ex girlfriend not too long ago- fake.
Weak words- phrases that are as outdated and arrogant as you are when you pretend to be someone you're not- they sound fake.
"You're pretty." ( stop lying)
"You're perfect." ( ridiculous)
"You're unlike everyone else in this world." ( originality is dead)
"I will never leave you." ( but you did)
"Anything you want baby, it's yours." ( i wanted you)
"I wasn't ignoring you, I just didn't know what to say." ( for a year?)
"I'm sorry." ( my favorite line)
How does it feel to hear your own words used against you?
Does it sound fake?