For three years
3 ******* years
I love you
You're the best part of my life
You're the best I've ever had
In one week
I can't be that guy
And in so many ways that's fair…
But I still feel used
I feel like I was lied to
Like once again I was temporary to someone I saw as permanent
I guess I always knew this would end in tragedy
I figured it would be because of you
I was ready to go all in
Despite the distance I always tried to keep
I was ready
I mean why not?
3 ******* years
Of the same thing
You told me once you needed me
And I refused to ever let myself need you.
But here we are
And I should have known
You would be the muse
And the death of my hope.
Go **** yourself.
When she needs me I know.
It's a frantic action,
a silent plea.
What we have is private,
it's more intimate than it has right to be.
We used to hide under the covers
with all the lights out
and I'd give her what she needed.
have never really been her style.
She's more of a hard and fast girl,
she wants to feel not think.
I get her heart pumping
and let her move with me.
quickly will have us all over the room.
She rarely opens her eyes
but she doesn't need to see,
her fingers will deftly navigate me.
The tension will roll off her
and she'll crash backwards with a smile.
When she needs me again
I'll be where she left me,
wrapped in silicone *******,
and we'll pick up where we left off,
the next time she hits play.
This one is light hearted and fun. I had fun writing it.
Memories leave a trail down my cheeks
Sometimes they make me smile
Sometimes they make me sad
But they remind me that
Start by wearing your heart on your sleeve.
You don't know any better yet,
up to this point the world has been good to you.
When your heart starts catching
on door knobs
and being battered against the black top,
you carefully tuck the gently scratched ***** in your pocket.
In your pocket,
out of sight
it's a little harder for the bruises to land.
the blood stain of time spent hidden
When the first blow lands
it knocks the wind from you.
You still don't lock your heart up.
You just move it back into your chest.
You don't sew yourself shut,
cracked ribs spread wide,
a tourniquet wrapped around one chamber,
the abused ***** still trying to beat
it's an erratic rhythm,
but it's a pulse.
It's not even shocking,
when daggers come from the front
and twist into the gnarled flesh.
broken pieces you've given away,
cover the walls.
Bones curl around
to try to protect you,
but you've never been able
to close yourself off completely.
The worst part is,
you sort of enjoy the pain.
For a moment,
the heart remembers
before the first bruises marred the skin,
before you built a cage to exist within.
Sometimes, I think I'm strong enough.
Sometimes, I believe I can do this alone.
Sometimes, I think the worst of it is over.
And then I have a bad day,
a bad week,
a bad month…
Then I'm reading back through all our texts
hoping there is something you said before
something that will help ease the hurt
something that will remind me I've got this.
Usually what ends up happening is,
Or at least I feel like crying.
Tears will burn my eyes,
and I'll remember the most important thing you said to me was,
"I'm always here for you."
Load of good that does me now.
Is it rude to shame the dead?
The second most important thing was
"you don't have to be tough all the time."
I wish that were true.
Things have been kind of heavy lately.
Nothing in particular,
just everything at once.
And I'm doing the best I can, I swear.
Some days with hope and drive,
sometimes just out of spite.
But I was wondering
if it would be a bother or a burden to you
that maybe things just aren't okay right now? Maybe I'm not okay right now.
And if it's too much to take, I fully understand.
If it makes you uncomfortable,
I'm good at playing pretend.
But I'm just sort of stuck,
and maybe not right now,
but eventually I'll get myself back up.
Why does the sun have to go away?
Why does junk food taste so much better late at night?
Why do car rides bring out conversations we'd normally never have?
Why do girls with more hope than they should reasonably have, fall for boys that are angry at the world?
Why do boys with beautiful blue eyes and dimpled smiles, like making curly haired girls with mischievous smirks blush crimson and stumble over their words?
Why do sensible girls fall for reckless hell raising boys?
Why do hell raising boys treat some girls like delicate flowers?
Why do girls that are afraid to trust anyone, fall into the arms, beneath the covers, stupidly in love with boys who taste like bourbon and cigarettes?
Why do boys trust girls full of softness with their demons?
Why do girls who feel like a burden, feel safe with boys who let them be human?
Why do boys who drive too fast also not wear their seat belt …
Why do girls wait by the phone…
Why do boys drive too fast…
Why do girls wait for a text…
Why do boys drive too fast…
Why do girls…
Why do boys…
Why did you have to die?