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Nov 2018
When I wrote about love the pages of my notebook would turn purple and blue

A mixture of tears and ink stains, smudged words about how ex-lovers caused my core to rot like an apple decomposing in a pile of compost.

That’s how I felt.

Buried beneath the dirt, stuck in the ground being eaten away by the past.

Because whenever I loved, and I mean truly loved I couldn’t see the ugly truth from the lens of my rose-tinted glasses.

It’s funny how one smile can leave you so blinded.

The rush, the thrill, chasing your crush, the desire to be wanted, you don’t realise it can lead to so much hurt.

But you learn.

There is heartbreak which I think we all know, or all will know.

I didn’t know that people could pluck you out of the crowd because you remind them of that one person who broke them so they use you as a substitute, though you’re not quite the original

Or being a **** toy, a human doll, there for display but never to be heard,

Maybe you got shot with constant insults because apparently that’s how some people flirt and compassion doesn’t clench your partner's thirst anymore.

When you look at it from afar the romance seems so pure, a Hollywood blockbuster next best seller, featuring Hugh Grant.

Then you take a closer look, you see the forced smiles, you hear the sighs and you notice the tears clouding in their eyes.

You try and hit rewind because you know there are good parts but your remotes broken and keep's jumping to the scenes that scarred you deep inside.

Can love ever be beautiful if all you’ve known is a heavy heart weighed down by the ghosts who lie locked away in your old diaries?

Nothing is ever going to be perfect but that doesn’t mean it has to leave you covered in scratches.

The damage doesn’t fade you just become used to it, however, all my damage gave me knowledge
I now know how demons play you

And that I refuse to let them beat me next time they feel like a game

I never even lost to them, they just convinced me they had won, grabbed the trophies and walked away

But I now know what I want love to be for me and what love should be

Those in my memories, the ones who broke me

Walk upon this Earth like a plague, gathering up souls in the palms of their hand

Feasting on the pain of others for their own personal gain

A twisted hunt, a search for power

Words will spread like wildfire and we will all know to sprinkle a salt around us next time these demons dare get close

Their time is over.

Because I also know what it is to love someone who is human

Who gives me that same sensation that I feel when reading inside beneath a pile of blankets whilst rain lightly dances and taps upon the window glass

That rush of comfort you get when you fall into your bed after a long day and can finally rest

When you’re with a group of friend and can’t stop laughing over the dumbest things, tears roll down your cheeks but they’re tears hand sewn by happiness

Or that random night out where you end up on the most spontaneous adventure and just lose yourself in the moment of surprise and when you think back to that day, you know that it is these moments that keep you alive.

And when these sensations, the comfort and glorious moments come to an end, the pain isn’t ugly, it’s more of an ache, to go back to these times and re-live these times all over again.

And you know you can seek them out and relive them, just maybe with a different coloured blanket, a new mattress, a new group of friends.

But the same feelings are all still there, and though your heart has stitches deep within it, it is this type of love that vanquishes the demons and helps you mend.
emmie cosgrove
Written by
emmie cosgrove  20/Gender Fluid/London
(20/Gender Fluid/London)   
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