i would much rather see dried tears on my pillow than another person in the same bed with me. not putting more strain on an already broken and irrepairable heart by letting someone in again. loneliness comforts more than the warmth of another nowadays and that’s how i will stay. that is the way it’ll remain.
a view through the windowpane was the last thing she left added to the silhouette of a bloodstain on the bed we use to share where she stole my heart as i laid covered by sheets still felt by my soul.
i love me do you? could you ever, truly? the way you make me feel is unsettlingly unruly towards self i couldn’t hurt you the way you’ve done me it’s not in the cards nor my heart for it belongs to you.
seems i can only finish writing when i’m drunk so i’m sorry if i’m not doing well with this anymore than i have been
I could tell you more about the hurt inflicted into us by what we thought was love and to find it be an inevitable pain followed by tears that flow off the face and the guilt that maybe it was out fault.
we NEVER get the love we deserve, manipulated and programmed the generational stigma to love one more than yourself and unfulfilling what we as the human race should've been instilled with was self love.
too busy lost in the social media haze of losing yourself into everything that we forget to love ourselves forgetting we have to do that before we can truly love any one person.
i write them in my notes keep them like postcards i cannot bring myself to send i want to tell you i'm sorry because i am i'm really sorry i'm sorry that was the best we could do i'm sorry that i asked too much of you i'm sorry i acted so selfish i'm sorry it has taken me so long i'm sorry i cannot bring myself to send the **** postcard