I do not like this phase of a heart break.

When you purposely avoid love songs,
Or sometimes you play them just to make yourself feel like your hearts still pounding.

When the person you loved and hid from every waking soul is brought into a conversation.
Or when he isn't.

When you see other lovers who have made it years without the cruel hand of fate ripping their love from them.
Or when you see they haven't.

When you notice him writing you smaller, casual messages when they use to be breathtaking and beautiful.
Or when he doesn't write at all.

When I ask you if I am pushing you away and you say no.

"Alright, happy birthday! Text me later tonight?"

"Will do"

When every hidden goodbye ends with those two words. And my broken, belittled heart.

(i. r.)

black is the rain cold on your skin
the merciless storm
that's brewing within
being knocked down by the strongest of winds
after you've just learned how to stand up again

its holding his hand, then letting it go
its him moving on, when you're going slow

black is saying goodbye, for the last time
the look in their eyes as you stand there and cry

its secretly dying inside
closing your eyes
trying to hide
never welcoming the light

black is being unable to see any relief
them watching, uncaring, as you openly bleed
dying of thirst
without the water you need
its planting a rose,
and getting a ****