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lauren Jun 2018
i am bent and i am worn
an old book with yellow
pages that are turning
to dust,
but please, i beg of you,
read me if you must,
and tell me how this
story is supposed
to end for us
wrote this during my last relationship. it didn't end well.
lauren Jun 2018
lazy summer days of green,
with the scent of soft flowers
in dark hair & stones in tired
palms, always failing to skip
and yet still rippling, shifting,
breaking the surface of
the still glass blue before
our dancing toes;
and maybe that's all it's
supposed to be, really–
hearts wide open and
vivid in the simplicity
of blooming hearts,
a lifetime of memories
nipping at heels pressed
far into the dirt, & yet
we still run wild alongside
twisted branches that
sway to the music carried
upon wind and waves–
granting our permission
as it dares us to relish in
possibility, letting the
present hit us full on
as a true home is found
among other people
i love my friends and this poem is about our day at the park. they mean so much to me.
lauren Jun 2018
i'm turning to my future now, and you don't get to follow me there. i no longer wonder how you're spending these summer nights, approximately 26.8 miles away from where i lay in bed. tonight, the scars will start to fade and my lips won't part at the memory of kissing you. it took two years to get here, my journal pages filled with pieces of exhilaration and transgression. i can no longer question what i was to you, and how you viewed me inside that tired mind. because maybe i was a mess of a girl holding onto the first boy i'd ever loved. maybe the bitter things weren't loud enough in our heads to stop what we'd begun before it stretched out too far. but the journey had me seeing despair and i couldn't let you go without hearing you say "i love you too" to me inside of my car. but that was the last time i ever saw you. you will never touch or talk to me again. and the cracks lining my heart have started to feel less tender and more cherished.
i let you go for good today. we're done. the end. the miles between us will not budge ever again. goodbye.
lauren Jun 2018
undone at the heart but still beating through it all. the ribcage vibrates with the weight of my agony. always longing, never reaching. the cusp is where i sit (feet dangling as i dream about him) but another is always quicker to dive in and take what might have been mine if only i dared to not miss a chance.
lauren Jun 2018
i have worn holes in my skin
trying to fill myself up with
you in places that you never
belonged,
i forgot how to breathe, write,
dream anything else besides
the ways you took what was
not meant as yours,
but i still let you have them,
have me,
and although they say history
cannot be rewritten,
i proved that theory wrong
each and every time i
let you back into my
life, into my heart-
only to break me
back apart

— The End —