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gd May 2015
You turned
me into ash;
I turned you
into poetry.

gd
gd Apr 2015
Please let me
find a silver
lining under
all this rust
because I've
scraped my
skin one too
many times
across concrete
slabs of undesired
endeavours and I am
getting quite tired patching
up scabs I know will just scar in the end.

gd
gd Apr 2015
If I'm being honest,
it takes everything in
me not to look back into
your eyes for the sole purpose
that if I lingered a little too long
I might just combust under all the
gravity and consuming stardust of
those piercing orbs. And I can feel
your gaze on the nape of my
neck and it's still branding
burn marks into my skin
but better that than
into my irises.

The weight of your stare could break down walls,
darling, and it'll turn me to stone so I'll
just keep counting to three before
looking away. I'll just keep
counting to three before
you melt me entirely.

gd
gd Apr 2015
I think I've met my match.
I've already lit the flame and
caught myself playing with its embers.
Now I know why they all said to stay away
because its call is mesmerizing,
almost hypnotizing.

It's got a radiant smile
and soft eyes
that are so smooth you'd never think
they could pierce your heart
until the blade is already three inches in
cutting off another piece of your sanity.

And you think that maybe if you just sit still
the fire will just burn
until it burns out
but the warmth is almost too tempting.
Sparks are flying and instigating
the ringing in your ears.

It's almost deafening
but its hum soothes the lining of your soul
and as much as you know there's still time to run,
the blaze is far too strong,
far too touching,
far too alluring.

And it's got all the potential to turn you into ash,
to crush the remnants of yourself
into feathers of debris.
But it's still has that radiant smile
and those stupid soft eyes
that resist any attempt of peeling your gaze away.

I've met my match.
I've already lit the flame.
I'm playing with fire.

And nothing will ever be the same.

gd
{uh oh}
gd Apr 2015
all their eyes on me
resurrecting memories
bitter as can be

gd
{no one understands}
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
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