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claire Jan 2014
breathe into my neck and let me draw on your skin.
claire Nov 2013
it was 21:00
we were sitting on the beach underneath the sad crescent moon with cigarettes between our fingers. I still remember the bitter taste of hard liquor on my lips, the same way I still remember the lines in your misplaced palms. one shot after another, I drink you down until I'm high enough to let go. my mind starts to wander and I slowly drift away into the dark clouds, into the smooth-sailing body of water, into the sea. I wanted it to stop but my thoughts were running in full speed, going to the back of my head, replaying memories I wish to forget. I let those thoughts consume me, I let them win.
but I felt okay because it no longer hurt and I was alright.

It was 22:30
I was half asleep in the car. my mind stopped working, but my mouth wasn't cooperating. I continued to ramble about things I now don't remember. but it was him, I was talking about him, not just him but the things he had done, the things we had done. they say we drink to forget,
but I drink to remember.
and I felt okay because it no longer hurt and I was alright.
claire Nov 2013
we were alone in the dark behind those pitch black curtains and I silently watch you play the piano.
even though it was dim and I could hardly make your face, I could see you beaming with a smile, surprised because you still remember the recital your teacher taught you six years ago.

you're just a boy who spends most of his weekends in lounges and bars, playing pool and shooting endless smoke rings from your mouth like a thousand secrets.
tossing bottles of cheap alcohol, causing it to spill out like unspoken words pouring out of your tired mouth.

but when I'm sitting beside you, watching you pound away on the piano, I don't see you as the guy who picked a fight with a tattooed guy in the club.
instead, I let the notes of the piano capture my emotions and I can't help but wonder if you play the guitar or maybe the drums, too.

I so badly want to talk to you, but I prefer to stay as strangers.
I like it better when I don't know you, some things are just better left unknown and I prefer to stay curious and interested.

I'd rather watch you giggle to yourself as your fingers slipped in between a recital.
I'd rather exchange shy smiles and glances in the hallway.
now don't get me wrong,  I so badly want to talk to you, but I can't articulate my thoughts when those playful fingers are tracing secrets into my thighs.
To my best friend's best friend.
claire Dec 2013
there was a time when I wanted nothing but to be your forever
to wake up every morning to the warmth of your shoulders against mine
to have coffee at dawn while your favorite soccer team is playing on TV
to sit on your lap and fall against your strong chest, tipping my head down to the crooks of your neck like puzzle pieces snapping into place
to have conversations about life, about death, about matching tattoos, about travelling the world, about us
to fantasize about the future and then laugh so hard at how ridiculous we sound
to hear your raspy voice at noon when the air is clear and cool and silent, save for the birds to whistle around the tall trees
there was a time when I wanted us to be forever.
"forever and always," you like to say after every fight we have.

until I learnt about the sad truth
about whom you really are behind that façade
about who you weren't

you know me better than I know myself
you know every little secret from my dad's family to the cuts around my thighs
you know every little flaw that I try to hide
and I thought I was lucky because someone finally cared
but when everything turns cold and bitter that night in November,
you  saw that as a chance to break me down
you lead me into the falsest sense of security
with every I'm sorry and I love you

after long, tired nights of pacing back and forth,
I finally realized I deserve better
                            I deserve so much more

thank you for loving me and showing me what I'm really worth
thank you for letting me go
claire May 2014
things aren't going so well these days and writing no longer comes easy but i picked up a pen and paper last night and i wrote about you

— The End —