I realized he wasn't looking for my heartbeat when he had his hand underneath my shirt.

I realized he wasn't trying to explore my soul when his lips were against my collarbone.

I realized he wasn't looking for love when he was looking into the void of my eyes.

I realized he wasn't going to stay when I woke up & there was no one beside me but my unbuttoned shirt.

I realized that you cannot find love in people who only make you feel loved temporarily.

I realized that sleep isn't going to fix all of my problems & alcohol won't mend my heart.

I realized that drinking coffee doesn't make me feel better.

I realized that **** happens & I have to move on because the world doesn't stop for anyone.

I realized that you don't deserve my love in any type of way.  

I realized that maybe you never loved me.. & that's okay,

because now I realized what I am worth & you deserve none of it.

When a writer falls in love, well, you're pretty much ******.
I have never been in love myself.
I've only thought I was in something like "love".
But I know that when that time comes, if ever, I will love unconditionally.

The reason I say that you're ****** if a writer falls in love is because we never forget.
We don't know how to forget,
All we know is how to reminisce.
Then again, even if you are not a writer this still applies to many.

But the thing is we will write about you.
Whether you were only part of lives for a while, or for a lifetime.
We will write.
Everything.

We will write about the way you hold the steering wheel with one hand on the freeway.
We will write about the way you like your coffee and the way you drink it.
We will write about the way you would sing to your favorite songs and the way you would rap your favorite verses without messing up.

We will write about the little details that you think we have forgotten,
Yet the little details is all we can remember.

You could have hurt us in the worst way ever,
Yet we will still describe as the most alluring human being.

That's the thing about us,
We write about people who sometimes don't deserve to be written about.
We write about places and memories that we wish we could forget.
And here I am, writing about them as if I could release them out of my memory.
I'm pretty much ******..
because I know I'll always write about everything and everyone.
Either with joy or with pain.

When a writer falls in love, well, you're pretty much ******.

Loving me is like walking on the shore of a lake while the sun is going down. You can see your feet in the water and the reflection of your face.
Soon you'll find yourself walking into the body of water and you will no longer see your feet.
You'll find yourself deeper and deeper. You'll realize that the body of water isn't as clean as it looked on the shore.
If you know how to swim then your chances of drowing in the waves of the water are slim.
But if you're not a great swimmer then I hope you know how to hold your breath or at least float because you're too far in now.
Take the chance.
I will teach you how to swim and how to hold your breath.
I will take the time to learn everything about you, the same way I want you to discover my waves.
Let yourself go and I promise you I will always love you.
Do not be afraid.
I will be patient and kind as you will attempt to fathom the body of water.
I will caress every inch of your body and I will kiss your imperfections.
All you have to do is let yourself go and I will forever be here for you.

Please have the audacity to recite all of the lies you told me with your lips on my collar bone.
Say it all at once under each breath & make me believe that those lies were the truth.
Make me believe that loneliness doesn't exist while your left hand is in between my hair.
Make me believe that I am worth something while your right hand is underneath my shirt.
Tell me you love me like you did back then.
Make me believe that I am not empty inside.
Make me believe that what we had was worth it, even though I know **** well it wasn't.
Make me feel something because lately I have been feeling nothing but pins and needles being struck into my veins.
Make me believe in you all over again, like mankind has tricked us into the concept of time.
Make me believe in something other than darkness because sooner or later I will get lost in the void of my sadness; the same way I got lost in the void of your words.

Holding onto my sadness is much like holding a delicate piece of glass. I hold onto it so tight that it breaks in the palm of my hand. Slowly the broken pieces cut through my skin, making my hand a canvas for the blood to drip off of.
But I don't feel the pain on my hands, I feel it in my chest.
The only thing I can think about is this empty feeling in my chest that has gotten too comfortable and doesn't want to leave.
Its like I'm in love with sadness and happiness hates me.
Lately I've been feeling a little bit crazy.
This is the only emotion I have been able to feel along with nostalgia, despair and all of those other words that are stuck in my throat that prevents me from breathing in fresh air.
I am out of my mind, yet I present an image where it seems like I am perfectly fine.
But then again everyone is fighting their own demons. Fighting their own thoughts. Fighting to not fight with yourself.
And sometimes my thoughts take over making my head hurt and palms sweat.
It makes me sick, but at least I know I can still feel something.

You touched my body but you never touched my soul. You never touched my mind.
The feeling of home in one another started to diminish & I felt homesick.
It's like a burning candle in the darkest room. Bright flame igniting while the wax burns.
All it takes is a wisp of air & the flame goes out.
While you sit there in the dark trying to watch the hot wax go cold & hard, just like your skin after you find out something you didn't want to find out.
After all we both knew we were nothing but danger for one another.
After all we didn't love each other as much as we should of.
We didn't love each other because you never took the time to explore my mind & have a look into my soul.
Oh the serendipity of falling for lust.

Looking into your iris is like teleporting to space. There is no such thing as the concept time or gravity.
Everything is still, yet moving so fast.
There is nothing. Nothing but absolute beauty & mystery.
It kept pulling me in as I was floating across a map of lost stars & swimming in a lost sea of star dust, yet I wasn't lost.
I knew exactly where I was.
I was with you,  
I was with your soul.
But yet no one exactly knows where we are because the universe is infinite & we are all just little specks of nothing.
But your eyes.. ******* those eyes.
Your eyes are not nothing.
Your eyes are everything.
They have the capability to make a human being discover galaxies that have never been found.
They have the beauty that no one has ever encountered.
Those eyes.. oh man those eyes have their own galaxies of their own.
They hold a world within them that still needs to be discovered.
They make you feel like you're lucid dreaming into
another dimension.
I cannot hold them in my hands, but yet I can feel your vibrations throughout my cold veins & my disordered skin.
Oh how ******* lovely it is to stare into your iris.