His illuminating personality is,
But a thinly veiled facade for the pain that lies underneath.
When looking deeply into his eyes,
You’ll see something I couldn’t.
Some say monster, some say saint;
For all I saw was him,
In his entirety.
As I sit here writing about someone I could barely grasp,
yet he holds me with such force,
The red seeps into a frigid purple,
As my superficialities begin to fade and the real damage is revealed.
The man I loved.
Is who hurts the most, even on his best days.
It’s time for me to end my romanticization with a ghost of a memory.
Life is waiting.
Tw: Self H*rm
I double guess myself, when you’re not around.
I need your voice to fall asleep, because of a secret you gave my soul to keep.
I hear her say “I don’t want to play that game”. The sound of her cries bring me back to mine.
The scars you’ve caused, will go deeper than her skin, reminding her that abusers always win.
Maybe she’ll turn out fine, or maybe she’ll continue the line.
Like an artist going mad from their own work. Never seeing something beautiful enough, so deeper she goes.
Another cut, another cut
They do say beauty comes from within, don’t they?
I got mocha boba for once
I’ve taken the first step
Thank you for that
Goodbye green apple.
I just did something
And now I’m hated by
The one I love most
Here’s a little haiku
What do I want?
The person who says they love me to actually know me
I want them to know what it means when I use that dreaded comma when I say goodnight,
I want them to do research when I’m struggling, instead of talking about themselves and their struggles... maybe it’s too much to ask for them to learn coping strategies with me
I want them to understand the small things that make me happy, like bookmarking my poetry account and checking it occasionally, or good morning and goodnight texts
I want someone who won’t try to draw me in with a promise and a pill...
I want someone who loves me
Maybe It’s too much to ask, to take me back| to against the wall, where you had your back.| Because now all that's behind you is me.| Maybe it’s My fault for pressing you| And this is just what you had to do,| But if so| why must you be so cold?| I remember our best moments| in the warmth of the summer| But now all I ask is| how have you become... her?| You used to taste like Orange,| vibrant and nostalgic. A comforting summer day under a willow tree.| now you taste like yellow,| bitter and tense.| a false security, Uncertainty, uncomfortably idling under the surface.|
is it bad that i want to feel you?
i know you passed on the opportunity,
but i think i sense regret.
the space between us shrinks,
but I can wait
you’re a lovely assault to my senses,
something i’ve never experienced; something i want to experience again...