Sweetheart, calm down.
You're not in love
nor do you love me.
you don't want to,
I won't let you.

I'm complicated.
I'm a mess.
After being too in love
with someone else.
I fell in love with my own company.
a little too much,
you could say.

So even your sweet talk
and candy.
Your long walks
and perfect goodbyes
aren't enough for me to
leave the comfort of knowing
that if i don't try
my heart won't break.

If a rose doesn't bloom
then the petals can't be
ripped off. The rose will
just be protected
by thorns and dirt.

Calm down, sweetheart
Please, calm down.
I don't love you.

Lately I've been scared about the ghosts around my house and in the dark before I sleep.
Even closer than lately to the present I've realized it's not the things we can't see that we should be scared of. It's those that laugh at our jokes and spend countless hours around us with seemingly good intentions, when really they're building up information on our weaknesses to bring us down, for fear that we are stronger than they are. We should truly be asking help from the ghosts and monsters under our beds, instead of fearing them, because they're the only ones that can see our best friends holding knives behind their backs ready to stab ours.

7pm:** it's one of those nights
8pm: watch tv
9pm: keep distracted
10pm: plan for tomorrow
11pm: go to bed
12pm: wake up and try to read until I fall asleep
1am: remember your charming smile and the way you run your fingers through your hair.
2am: flip angrily through the pages that I skim over because for some reason I strongly believe that a book on love will help me get over you
3am: think about why you don't and never did love me
4am: count the hours until I have to get up and blame you for keeping me awake.
5am: you used to keep me awake for things like talking about our futures and now I'm left here with half an empty bed wondering why your future doesn't involve me
6am: wake up tired from my 15 minute sleep and wonder how even on the darkest nights the sun still manages to rise
7am: I'm drinking coffee out of a cup that used to touch your lips every morning, like me, and I know you won't be back for either of us

And everyone says the story is prewritten where one day you blink your eyes and the next thing you know your dreams are being shredded left and right. The girl you fell madly in love with has changed far too much to keep pretending. And worst of all the pain of the world has just made you think that humanity is at its worst and there's not much you can do about it. Why call it life? Why call it life, when a more suitable name is 75-80 years of regrets?

I asked him who he thought he was,
doing all of this. With a faint smile
on his face he said Life.
After hearing the second L word
that crushed my lungs that day,
I slapped his face with all my anger.
That was for every moment he made me regret
something I'd done, and for every twist
he had put in my path. For better or for worse,
wasn't an excuse. Then I hugged him
filled with contradiction,
tighter than shoes 2 sizes too small.
Thanking him for the moments
where I couldn't stop smiling,
dancing, laughing, singing;
moments that make us all feel alive.
Shortly after I broke down, still in his arms.
"There is too much sadness in the world,"
I said in between sobs. A champagne bottle full,
about to burst anytime someone opened the eyelid
shaped cap. And lastly I kissed him.
Everyone talks about the kiss of death and
its bitter sweetness, but they're the ones
who have never touched lips so alive
they could make the sun rise with as much as a sigh.
Before he was out of sight, he turned towards me and said,
"I always go on."
I then turned the opposite way and
with every step, thought of whose
breath made the moonrise.

It's crazy how
The phone rings and
I'm disappointed that
The person I thought
I loved the most calls.
Because I realize, I can't
Love them that much
If I'm here
Wishing they were you.

I hope* she teaches you the meaning of loving someone to death.
I hope you lose sleep talking to her, and then later that night when you can't stop thinking about that one thing she said, just keep replaying it in your head until sleep washes you into its sea.
I hope she brings back the faith you lost in people.
I hope you let her mess your hair up, even though you can't even stand the wind wisping softly through the strands.
I hope you memorize her favourite lines in movies and songs.
I hope hearing her cry makes you want to go to the ends of the earth to hear her genuinely laugh again.
I hope she's the calm to your storm and the colour to the, sometimes grey, life you lead.
Most of all, I hope you love her passionately, devotedly, selflessly, and without reason or hope.
Because then you'll finally realize, that's the way I loved you.

It started with fun nights and stopless laughter.
It started with sweet kisses in our blanket fort, warmed by the lights hanging above us and surrounded by the soft music repeatedly mumbling love words.

It faded into talking less and only hours within 2 weeks of seeing each other, but that didn't bother us.
It should have.
It faded into ignoring each other's texts and hiding from words that start with L, hopelessly wishing that the initial spark would hold up a house of cards instead of burning it down.

It is presently a mutual relationship of two acquaintances who act like they don't know what to do with their freed hands hanging loosely instead of being held.
It is presenty an awkward time for me. Where I don't want you, but I miss you, or the things you used to represent at least, like passion and things that aren't supposed to be.

Key words: aren't supposed to be.

And I've lost focus of everything...
That matters anyways
Because the image of your lips
Softly trailing from my neck
To hers.
Is too engraved in my mind.
And I wish your lips
We're still engraved on my skin,
But the light brush work has
Worn off.
And now all I have is his lips,
That always feel like rocks
Probably from all that whiskey.
We've both had too much.
I just can't stop drinking of you.

And last night my lips melted into a boy,
Who only wanted 7 minutes in heaven
But kept my mind in hell the morning after.
And the weeks to follow.
How was I to know that disguises were not just made for high school plays.
How was I to know what exists in sweet brown eyes and golden hair.
My parents warned me about drugs and getting run over by fast paced cars, but never about the addictive  feeling you give me when I think of you and the fast paced beats my heart makes when you lie about loving me. I really wish I could fool myself into believing you just for a kiss longer.

Tell me what you had for dinner and what you and your mom debated about across the table.
Tell me how every time she cooks alone you wonder what your dad would look like with his hands across her hips
like he used to do when they were in love.
Tell me how you don’t believe in love anymore.
Tell me how everything that is whole can be torn apart.
How you have transformed yourself from a plain block into a Rubix cube emerging from the perpetual change in your life.
How the colours no longer match on any side
no matter how many times you try to turn things around
You don’t know what to believe in
anymore.
Tell me you believe in her.
Tell me how hard it is to stay together and how hard it is to stay apart.
Tell me how you hate sleeping with someone beside you but you hugged her tightly in the middle of the night because even in your dreams you were scared to lose her.
Lately her side of the bed has only had your shadows surrounding it.
They wonder if she’ll be back or if they should change their address to your bed frame and tell the mail man to forward any letters meant for her to an address where the only kisses that wake her up are the ones that nameless men use to thank her for the night before.
The ones
That’s the thing about the calm after the storm, is it happiness or just relief.

Even pretty faces need a mind to enamour the soul.

Lately I've been comparing people to birds and relationships to cages.
We often try to lure the birds to our cages by using secrets, gossip and materialistic things (seldomnly I hope).
And when the birds are in our cage we shut the door without a second thought. We trap our beautiful birds and think that they'll be happy when we feed them love, advice, laughter and other sweet sounds. Sadly, we don't feed them the sweetest of the feelings : freedom. And by freedom I don't mean pushing them out of the cage and forcing them to fly far away because you can't bare the thought of not having them to yourself. Freedom is leaving the cage door open, so if they hear a more melodious laughter in the neighbours house they may go and hear it as they please. And it also means that you'll be dancing along instead of trying to sing louder and better. Because birds, as pretty as they are to have around, are built with wings to fly around the world. And what a pleasure it would be to know that out of all the sounds in the world, your bird came back by choice?

I could've had a murderers hands wrapped around my waist and still have felt warmth seeping into my cold blood. That's how much I crave to be held by someone who wants me.

I talked to a new guy today.
He charmed me with quick lines
and made me dream again.
Made me think about our hands intertwined
and soft good morning kisses.

The butterflies were gone for months after you.
It's as though they longed to explore other stomachs.
They left when we didn't work out and
I lost the best feelings along with your smile.

I always fall in love too quickly and
fall out of it as though I'm a slinky
           in    
                     and
                           out      
                     of
         hearts.
I swear I wanted to stay, but "it's for the best"
at least that's what I told you while I was pretending to not cry.

And yet again,
I've promised another one I would stay.

When I let go of your hand I realized how tightly I was really holding on.
My fingers unraveled in between yours with the intensity of a ship being sunk by a anchor with the weight of the world.
My world at least. My whole world.

And when I gave you a final kiss my eyes were wide open. Usually when people in love kiss, they close their eyes because in that moment they imagine the future with the person their kissing. They imagine a picket fence and hundreds of plane tickets hung on the walls, with stories written on the backing. Don't try and tell me you haven't thought of how you would propose or get proposed to because we've all been there. Everyone wants a fairytale no matter how much they say that it's not for them. No matter how much anyone says that love ***** and that the thought of someone else holding and loving them forever repulses any part of them at all. We tell so many lies that they consume us with absolute terror. But I kept my eyes open when I kissed you because our child reduplicated "goodbye" can't have another hello.

I know you're not the one. But I'm lonely and a kiss is a kiss.