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gd Apr 2015
The first one hurts the longest.
The second one hurts the hardest.
And the third one doesn't hurt at all.

He's your fifth 4am ***** shot
your beer pong binger
your 6am hook up,
numbing every nerve in your entire body

and it feels the best but ends up the worst at 5am
when he's holding your hair over the toilet
and singing you to sleep
when he's lacing his fingers through your hair

and your waist
and your hands
and through the tiny fractured crevices
between your injured heart.

The third is the tallest climb
the longest fall
the most honest hour
the pounding hangover and

the beaten emotions you never even knew you kept pent up
until he's slipping his tongue through your mouth
and you're pulling his bottom lip to pull him closer
to let him take whatever is even left of you.

The third is your weakness
because he will catch your heart when it's still on your sleeve,
tattered and stained from the ***** you threw up
as easily as the words that got him to hold you like he used to.

The third will whisper
the third will listen
the third will taste like the butterflies you thought you poisoned.

But the third is definitely a charm.

gd
{the third is intoxicating}
{I make bad decisions, but I am not a bad person}
gd Apr 2015
Ju.
I know you are
trying to forget
me but please
don't
because I won't.

gd
gd Apr 2015
I miss your beating heart making music in my ears.
They used to sing lullabies
that would always leave me drowsy in desires,
and I wonder if you still hum as often as you used to.

Because that was the mood shift,
the tell tale sign that you were happy.
A soft rift here, another octave there;
I miss that sound because it always filled the silence with serenity.

Recently however, silence has been all I've been used to.
And the only beating heart I'm hearing is my own,
running like I've been running miles.
But in actuality

I've only been sitting still, staring at ceilings
wondering if I could turn back time
I wouldn't have had to watch you turn around
and never look back.

My hands always shake just thinking about you
and I can't help but wonder if maybe
it's because your fingers are no longer intertwined
to keep them still.

I miss the warmth and the pure comfort.
I'm wearing layers and fake smiles
and I can't even think about tomorrow
without wondering how things would be different

if you were here today.

gd
{I hope you're happy}
gd Mar 2015
We were both a little too hopeless and a little too romantic
to truly understand just how on earth we could possibly
love each other right; a couple worn out kids with
worn out hearts sewn to the inside of their left
sleeves because the only thing that felt right
was doing everything completely
wrong.

gd
{maybe I'm still caught up on what ifs}
gd Mar 2015
It's been a long month
since you walked o u t
my door with nothing
but the remnants of my
h   /   e   /   a   /   r    /  t

I can still *  taste  * you at
the back of my throat and
I am still having  {trouble}
swallowing your absence.
But isn't that the most ironic
thing, love?

The reason I cannot breathe
is because you're not there
to take my breath  ~  away.

gd
{I'm still picking up pieces}
gd Mar 2015
everytime

i close my eyes
i see your face; in the
pitchblack darkness, the outline
of your soft features arise without
a single imperfection, yet
what a dangerous
twisted game this mind
creates because when i close my
eyes, i see you smiling and a
sin it is when i almost
smile back.

gd
gd Mar 2015
I miss you the most in
the middle of the night
when the  o n l y  thing
that is able to consume
me is the memory of
your lip stains on my
chest and the darkness
surrounding ; the only
thing that is keeping us
con-nec-ted seems to be
the stars, darling. And
they're close to burning
out.

gd
{I look for you in the stars, because I'm hoping you wish on them too}
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