It's ironic to think about how I had someone once.
The kind of person who would
"insert literally any cheesy metaphor here" and he would have.
But I was too scared to want that for myself.
Too terrified of my emotions to let them into me.
I wish I could turn back time.
Before I was all ruins and dust of those who have walked all over me.
Sometimes I think it a dream,
that this life I'm living isn't really me
That the girl with the dark brown hair
never dyed it because she wanted change from a boy who broke her heart that she ended up running back to anyways.
Now her hair, heart and pride are all damaged.
She isn't treated the way she needs to be. And any chance of that happening isn't likely. She chose her fate but it wasn't wisely.
She didn't think she deserved to be happy.
So now she's not.
And she can't seem to let go of the boy with the canvas across his chest because she finds beauty when he breathes.
But he doesn't give her a second look most days.
Only acknowledges what's in front of him when it's there, not when it may not be anymore.
He often thinks too much into himself.
They are both too insecure to love each other properly
and too insecure to let each other go.
We are the best of friends but the worst of lovers.
And there could've been the love of my life somewhere before or inbetween but I never seem to do things according to plan.
These paths across my thighs are like a roadmap for my lonely and you have never dared to look in their direction because you don't know this pain I feel under my clothes.
How every inch of me is covered but it still feels so open and exposed.
I've never hated anyone more than myself.
Not even the ******* who stole my childhood
because I hate myself for letting him.
I shouldn't put so much blame on a girl who has never had guidance. Built myself from the ground up and it seems I am not finished yet. There is still work to be done.