the lights are too bright because my eyes are strained from crying into pillows for hours at a time. i do not know if you knew why the door never slams when i'm around but it's because my father taught me to respect everyone, even if they did you wrong. i'm on the losing end for my emotions are spilling out of me and yet i do not have a platform to express them. i may have words, marks on paper that are a means of communication but the words you used against me hurt so much. i wish every night i spent with you wasn't mellow and full of *** for i would kiss you for hours and act as a warm home for all your troubles but i couldn't do that because all you wanted was ***, ***, *** and the pleasure that you got from it drove you madder each time. do you remember when you came home and ****** me, you whispered her name into my ears in between whiskey breaths? i didn't forget and you were too drunk to remember anything but you went back to see her anyway. her name was on your tongue like a back alley piercing and yet you chose to let yourself be trapped in her stone cold arms. while i wait till four in the morning with a safe haven and a warm home, she drew the hallelujah from you, and when you came back, i did not know who you were.
Every so often, you get your heart broken. It's a punch to the stomach, a kick to the knees, a stab in the chest.
Sometimes, you meet this person again. Of course you long to be able to look into their eyes and melt into them like you always have. To lie in their arms would be a heaven almost unimaginable because of the current circumstances, yet you desire it. But has anyone considered the actual feeling of stealing small, secretive, loving, glances at them?
It's looking through a sea of asphyxiation - obviously you are deprived of oxygen underwater - and not being able to reach for them. You are the lone diver, and they are the sinking rocks headed for the ocean's abyss. It's disconcerting, painful and uncomfortable.
You're crying. Why are you crying? Oh. It hurts. Obvious. You are shaking so much you thought you would die young. You have your whole funeral planned in your head. Organs play in the background to honor your demise. The tears flow from your face, leaving hot, burning trails as they did, but the pain of it cannot compare to the one in the pit of your stomach. You wonder when the pain will stop. Wondering alone does not help it.
What you would give to stare into their ocean eyes, play with their hair, crush your lips into theirs.
If only falling out of love were as easy as falling into it.
With each replay of a long, mellow song to drown out my sorry soul as I wallow in self pity and shout at the walls, I find that the volume increases inevitably as I struggle to engulf my senses long enough to transcend into a state of unknowing.
People say, "Ignorance is bliss." and sometimes they are right. Believing a lie, delusion or honey-coated words helps keep many sane and it shields them from pain, but for how long?
Once these people do see the light, they feel an embodiment of pain far, far worse from what they'd thought because they have grown accustomed to what has been and not what is.
Often am I lost, creating new worlds and being the maker of places I cannot physically enjoy and can only dream just to satiate my mind and to prevent it from madness for now.
I am trapped between surrealism and reality. I cannot emphasize how much it hurts to enjoy yourself in a perfect world where everything seems to go right, and then be hurled back into the dark recesses of reality. I'm disoriented from the ride, and I honestly want to break down.
You are nothing but what you had and what you lost.
Happiness. A 9-letter word. How does one begin to describe the emotion they’ve never really got to know, amongst other things like hurt, confusion and utter heartbreak?
It was by the smile lines on her face, the way her skin glowed and reflected sunbeams when she took the perfect photo of a beautiful landscape.
When she doesn’t have any recollection of her half-burnt, tear-stained journals that still had residue from her last overdose.
When she forgot about how she took a blade to her fragile skin to carve your name into them, and then weep about your leaving afterwards.
She writes about optimism and love again, because she is over everything that had ever ruined her life.
She takes her dog for walks in the park, and notices how every flap of a butterfly going through the air from one flower to another seemed to coincide with the beats of her heart, which beat more consistently and powerfully than ever before.
She notices all the little details she missed before, like how lines of dust moved whenever certain objects were misplaced, or the morning calls of the birds in her neighbor’s bird bath.
She is so much more euphoric than before, so don’t break her again.
i've never really tackled the subject of happiness before and this is a first i guess
I want to tie a string around every one of your fingers and appendages, and perhaps dangle you over the edge of the galaxy just so you'll know what it was like to experience very real and very pure heartbreak.
I'd grasp onto your soul so hard your being started to disintegrate and the atoms of the space around you gathered to push you into a space-time continuum to follow my voice while I walk you through the void, the darkness I went through when you said that last farewell and didn't consider the prison you'd incarcerated me in.
It was as if you'd trapped my soul into passing showers of rainclouds, and you took them with you as you left. I’d drilled your last lovelorn letters to me into a hole in the walls I put up to protect my raw, aching heart from anymore of the tragedy you have caused me. I don’t know if you’d realized your mistake but you never came back. You were lost in the wind, a novel of sweet nothings flung about by moving air and I never saw you since.
You are nothing more than burnt love letters and apologies I whisper every night unknowingly to the empty darkness beside me.
I like to paint your silhouette onto the trees I hug and imagine your shadow as I sleep under the stars because that gave me back some, if not most, of my sanity for a while. Don't you understand how you keep me alive and soulful and willing to continue living?
I breathe the fresh air hoping to get a whiff of you, floating about in the very wind that took you away.