ic Dec 2015
he told me
that my love was
bigger than all the
oceans together.
and now we barely
speak, and he can't
make me hate him.
it's impossible to hate
a person like him, to hate
a heart, a body, a soul,
a mind, like his.
i hope he still cares about me;
our july was wonderful.
maybe it's still love that
i'm feeling.
i miss him, i miss his love,
i miss him caring about me,
i miss our closeness,
i miss writing poems about him,
i miss being happy about him,
i miss his eyes, i miss the way he was
in july and august,
i just miss him, all the fucking time.
and it still hurts, i can feel my heart aching.
ic Jan 2015
he had that kind of smile that
could make flowers grow faster
and sun shine brighter, and even though
i only saw him at night times and
he always wore black and it suited him best,
he was the light of my life,

but he had someone,
someone important in his life
and i couldn't do anything about it,
except watch from a distance,
singing ramones songs to her,
although he said he hated romance.

**i guess he lied.
ic Jan 2015
i hope you notice how my cheeks
always flush whenever the cold air
hits my face or you look at me,
being the reason for your smile has been
my greatest accomplishment yet,
and i hope i get to kiss you this year.
ic Jan 2015
i know we share the same skin,
but can i touch yours?
ic Jan 2015
last night i found out that you still hold a cigarette between your lips and i just want to smack your stupid face for not quitting,
but what hurts me even more is that you didn't offer me yours and i have been thinking of buying one pack myself and drowning myself in pity and coughed smoke/

what i hate to admit is that you look even more beautiful with a cigarette between your fingers but i refuse to go back to my old self, to the old me who loved the boy with no heart, with smoke in his lungs instead of air, the boy with charming smile, because he wasn't even real, it was a person my mind had created in hopes he would become even more beautiful than he already was/

but at least i hope you had fun on new years and i'm thankful that some girl's lips weren't pressed against yours at midnight, but i don't love you anymore, so i don't know why i even care/

but even with smoke in his mouth, i knew i wanted to kiss him and savor his taste, which i only had presumptions of-
maybe his tongue was a mixture of mint and hurricane or strawberries and sun kissed rose pedals or maybe chocolate and rain but i felt dizzy and out of place when the realization hit me that i will never find out how his lips tasted and felt against mine/
i'm confused, g.
ic Jan 2015
my father warned me about
boys with black, dead hearts
but he hadn't even realized
that his deranged daughter
had become a girl with that same
kind of heart and she was scouting
for boys with nice ones, so she could
break them to pieces
and stomp on them.

but every time she tried,
she was the one who ended up
with a damaged, scratched heart
and she loathed herself for that,
the way she let herself feel even
the slightest bit of pain again.

but she coaxed herself that if she felt,
she was still human and she hasn't turned
into a emotionless, cold blooded monster,
yet.
ic Jan 2015
they asked me,
"what do you feel?"
and i swear to god,
i almost whispered your name.

                                                               *maybe i should've screamed it.
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