You are the weakness I don't need
You are the sickness I feel
You are my wants and needs
You are everything in between
You are some of what im missing
You are the suffering I feel
You are what makes me real
You love him and NOT me
So let me go
Or set him free

It’s not just pain,
it’s hotter,
brighter,
more compelling.
It's heartbreak-love,
the kind that tears you apart inside
and yet awakens you
to the silenced realities to which
most are blind.

It is a pull, a lock that
hooks inside of another
person drawing
them to you
indefinitely.
You feel like a magnet
at all times,
crushed when he looks at you
with those sad, terrified eyes
which beg for hope.
You are crushed for him,
crushed for his pain.
Always wanting
to keep him
close to you, to give him
the warmth you
somehow know
he needs.

No one will hurt you here,
you want him to know.
You’re safe with me, I will protect you.
You want him to be happy,
more than you care
about your own happiness:
that’s heartbreak love.

And it's always the loners,
the lost souls,
the obscured escapees,
the ones with the shaded expressions and watering, orb-like eyes,
the ones with the smiles that don’t quite touch light into the face,
the kind that drains life out of you,
yet leaves you needing more.

He’s my boy,
that’s how you see it,
how you experience it.
He’s yours,
and you would do anything
to protect your child.

’Tis evening; the black snail has got on his track,
And gone to its nest is the wren,
And the packman snail, too, with his home on his back,
Clings to the bowed bents like a wen.

The shepherd has made a rude mark with his foot
Where his shadow reached when he first came,
And it just touched the tree where his secret love cut
Two letters that stand for love’s name.

The evening comes in with the wishes of love,
And the shepherd he looks on the flowers,
And thinks who would praise the soft song of the dove,
And meet joy in these dew-falling hours.

For Nature is love, and finds haunts for true love,
Where nothing can hear or intrude;
It hides from the eagle and joins with the dove,
In beautiful green solitude.

I have never once liked him.
I have lusted for him, and I have desired to hurt him.

I have never once loved him,
but oh, how he has haunted me in my daydreams.

He either deserts me or envelops me at night.

I would move close to him in the early morning,
give him a solitary kiss on the forehead,
on his arm, on his chest;
wherever I felt he would let me touch without pushing my lips away.

He would grip me from behind,
roll us over and kiss me only to get inside of me.

At one point, I thought this was the same thing.

He calls me mystery, wild child, baby blue.

He is turning me into an apology of this girl.

I am baby blood lust.

Maybe now you'll begin to realize
why I can never take the word
"forever" too seriously by anyone.

Because we made promises too big
for our hearts
and reality has a harsh way
of not giving us what we want.

And even though I was the one
who called it off,
you were the one who left
months before,
leaving behind nothing but a ghost.

You always thought my words
were beautiful,
but will you still think the same
when they're written all about you?

-k.w//A Letter to my Recent Heartbreaker

The winds of change blow ever near
Can't take away this taste of fear
Storms are brewing in my mind
Maybe calm will follow and fate will be kind
Or maybe my life will turn upside down
My anxious smiles will become a frown
The eternal flame of hope burnt out
with an everlasting shower of disappointment and doubt
Or maybe happiness will step right in
take away the shadows of the night
that crawl around in my brain until daylight
My lust for life will re-appear, and drive away that lonely tear
Hope will never fade as long as I am alive
For a better life I will continue to strive
Maybe this, maybe that
Who knows what will happen to me
I'll just make a wish, cross my fingers, then wait and see.