We were the worst friends we ever had
But i loved you and
I wasn't capable of ever letting the thought of not being friends at all cross my mind

Trying to hold on to days when
You had my door key and
We'd eat to much popcorn and made fun of sjp's outfits
And that must be the time when we weren't such bad friends after all.

He thought he could fix her
But he would always forget
She had to feel her own skin
Everytime he held her hands

You are that one black picture from my disposable camera. I don't know if your memory was a good one but i would give everything to see you.

Like that one frustrating grip. I feel you all the time but i just can't hold on to you, no matter how much i hurt myself.

You are that appartement i lived in for seven months that never was mine but also was the only place i ever felt at home.

Some nights you hit my dreams
Just as sudden as you left my reality.

She's lost, dad. Nobody's heard from her again. I see images of empty rooms. A girl who looks like me. Men we never met. Her dark hair is no longer full of volume. Neither are her eyes of light. Sometimes it's harder to think about you than to think about our next fix.

There must be a day when I can stop blaming you,
But untill that day we are waiting to be saved by a man that never came.

****, that was the mdma.**

I felt the chemicals crawling slowly passed my throat into my system
And for a moment I was the only thing in my moshpit reality
Standing completely still for once
Right there
In the middle of Hungary
I felt the prodigy spiders climb through my skin
Into my brain
And I could not think myself
But I heard the thoughts of others

"Why do we do this to ourselves?"

He was destructively rememberable and i blame it on the echo
that fell from his lips everytime i made him smile

It would elegantly fly around in unspoken discomforts then
land on my ears in the form of a
goodbye

At least we're still alive.

I wrote eulogies for all the people I will ever loose, but when the time will come I don't want to remember how to speak.

At least we feel love.

I mix the feeling up with other one's. One's that will never be worth the effort.

At least we are healthy.

And our bodies remember to breathe when we forget.

At least we can fight.

I will feel terribly ashamed and sorry if I will ever stop that for one second in time.

We owe that to them.

You were breathfastening beautiful with
your bare feet and your wanderlust.

It was only after I leaned in to kiss you
the reflection I saw made me forget.

I was never built for orgasming
Because of men who love to give
I was built for
Steal another ******
Kind of ***
Out of pure selfishness and absolutely
Never
Out of generousity.

I was made for
Out of your head
Shut the **** up
Type of romantic insanity.

I used to think I was built to travel the world with somebody
But I found I was built
To get locked up and
Break free by myself.

There are glasses and bottles
Lines joints and hands full
There's evenings and weekends
And mornings we wake.

There are men and their bodies
And girls and their skin
There are kisses and touches
And oh for **** sakes.

There are sisters and mothers
Good-for-nothing fathers
There's uncles who managed
To fix some of the break.

There's jobs and there's classes
There's friends and there's lovers
There's me in the middle
More than I could take.

I feel
Exactly
Nothing

I've seen flowers, frozen and buried, come back alive in the spring of the next year.

Children learning how to talk in 52 weeks.

There's proof that masterpieces were made in four season, so I will strongly believe I'll be fine a year after you left.

Bartender,
pour me the usual as I
take a seat and watch your every
move as if I pay you in bills of one. I'll make a comment that makes
you unable to not make that joke,
because after all your stupid jokes
comes that devastating laugh you always laugh.
It hurts so good to see you love her.
I'll just pretend I am her for the moment when I watch you
undress her at night.
Let me automutilate myself by looking at you for hours and
I promise, I won't say a word.
Just be you, my lost love.
And let me be my drunk and crushed self tonight.

Wrap my hands tight to your bedframe
tickle softly on my arms
use your tie to tie my feet up
so my legs are wide apart

As you make me think you'll kiss me
hold a hand behind my head
And the moment that our lips touch
grab my hair and pull it back

Put your body in between me
be my master everytime
that I push my hips towards you
to get your flesh so deep in mine

Make me rules and make me break them
for I crave your punishments
Comfort my skin after and
drown me in your sentiment.

When I can't sleep
I feel your
breathe on me.

I wish I still smoked
So I could sit on my roof inhaling this misery.

My memories of you are so playful and sweet
(Only since that day they got this undertone of heartbreak)

It was like this roller coaster of falling in love, the one we all know.
But right at my highest point, when I could see the whole city and my heart was racing and you were holding my hand

Right there
You woke me up

And now I will never know how scary and fun the rest of the ride would be. All I know is how I will dream of the possibilities for the rest of my life.

You were the best example
Of how I want to look into his eyes without any hesitation
Throw my head back and cry full volume with his mouth between my thighs and not be sane for a second

You made me realise I want painfully real being in love ****,
untill the psoriasis fills up my **** and he doesn't give a **** because I am so beautiful as I pour out his tea.

He will hold my hand on a festival just as proud as he licks my cheeks in the smoking area of a cracked out club and he will always wait for me while I work,
but untill now he's just never quite you.

My longues panick the moment my brains project the memories of you on the inside of my eyes.
And I could spend the rest of my life thinking about your choices but never making mine.

You were gorgeous in the summer with your hair dark and your stronger growing love for me.
And you were destructive and ice cold when winter started and you decided to choose honesty.

Seven months went by and little changed because still nobody knows how to trigger me like you.
They are flashlights and candles and torches and some of them stars, but lover you were the moon.

My brain zaps every minute to remind me
I belong in a room made of pillow.
"Now can you draw a fantasytree for me little lady?"
I'm working on it, it's getting better I promise.
Did you hear that?
In my dream last night I murdered and
it felt kind of freeing.
I forgot my meds mom, help.
Just tap your hand a little more,
there's a screaming really close.
I, I feel it zapping again. Minute's past.

"She draw her father without feet"

I get so scared.

Because I always **** up. Over attached insecurely depressed and you'll leave by the time that you figure this mess.

I get so anxious.

Because you're all so intimidading. With your arms and your hands and the scents of these men and I try to stop fantasising of it but I can't.

I get so weak.

Because I give you my spark. And I loose all my strength to the thought of a man loving me for the things that I no longer am.

I never liked any of you.
I just love doubting myself.

Funny how ten milligrams lighter
feels like ten kilos more.

Your smile is like almost missing the last train home but than the conductor waits for you.
Like that connection with a customer on a long day of work.
The moment you realise there's just 4 weeks till summer.
A 10 euro bill in your pocket right before the washing machine.

It's too cliche to compare your smile to sunshine,
but it's the warmth on my face on a dutch day in autumn.

Think of how many heartbreaks you pass on the street.
These passengers wait for a body's arriving, but find out that promises weren't made to keep.

Look at the person beside you that's touching your knee.
Put a hand on his or hers if that's what they need.

Find the desperation in the traveller's being.
Don't do like the rest and ignore what you've seen.

I have no idea what home is for me anymore.

It's not the third house this year, with new housemates and a pile of bad memories on the shelves. I don't care about the twentyfive pairs of heels in my closet. I never feel content with travelling home.

It's not my mothers place, not since years. There's a mixture of scents in the air there. Fights and anxiety, depressions and stubborness. But I still come there all the time.

It's not even the place where we go camping, though the rocks feel like freedom and I feel far away from all *******.

I used to think it was in somebody else's arms, but I can no longer believe such.

I hope one day I'll tell you how the green inside your eyes outweighs the brown and when I stare in them to long during an unaware moment I see the forest that I used to walk through as a kid when we visited grandma.

I should talk about the way the left side of your lips curve a little bit to the inside of your mouth when you think of something funny and that's why I always kiss that corner of your mouth.

How your hair, that's always a little too long, smells so safe and I spend nights with my nose in there because every breathe makes me realise I want to be with you like this forever.

And I truly hate your sense of humor and your favourite songs but we take having breakfast to a whole new level. The way you love food the same way I do and I never want to eat somebody else's omelettes.

When we lay in bed together, all I can think of is how I want you closer and my body reacts to your fingers like it has always been waiting for them to unlock it.

You are the love of my life and I can't wait to meet you one day.

This isn't about love.
There's no point in romanticising me living on a couch.
Mom, I am so sorry, I can't come back again.
But I love you.
This isn't about love.
Maybe about karma.
What goes around steals your belongings and asks you back the key.
And my backpack is so heavy.
(How did I fit my life in there)
But my feet aren't tired yet.
Let's try Rotterdam
I hate that city but
This isn't about love.

I lost my house tonight
And you have a girlfriend but
Your voice made me realise I
Want a boy that can write me songs
And play them for me

One that doesn't care about his clothes
And has too much hair and a beard
Weird things like your ***** pack

You made so clear tonight
Exactly what I want and
That you were made fo-hor me

If I could I would have hidden the pills and never wear my robe.

Is that why you left, baby?

I could have closed my eyes on nights like this instead of latching onto you.

Would that make you stay, darlin?

I should have laughed at none of your jokes, nor cried at all your kisses.
Let your hand go in public.
Take your t-shirt off.
Left.

I could have tried to love you less, would you still love me, honey?

Those nights my bed always felt like it was shaking, but now I realise it was probably just me.

Five milligrams to hold on to this time. I hope the eyes-closed-visuals won't return or the strange noises in every music, even Jack Johnson. I hope I won't go back to looking back at a day and feel as if I just wasn't really there. That cold feeling in my neck can stay away from now on.

I have a list in my head of things I really want. It goes something like this.

- A house where I can live in for as long as I want, with a nice kitchen and maybe a cat.
- Some friends that really love me for me and make me happier then without them.
- The possibilities to travel wherever and whenever I want.
- A job I enjoy and a body that works.

So for me, this list is the ultimate state of happiness. It occured to me that a boyfriend or husband or lovelife is not on this list. That's why I really wonder: how come I spend everyday thinking about that and trying to fix that part of my life instead of the others?

I've tried to write a hundred poems
since the day you left.
I've tried metaphors and spoken word,
But it seems that all I have
Is books filled with i miss you's
And a title i feel sad
How do you put in words
The empty feeling of this bed
Has there been named a word
For craving something that's not mine
I don't know what the fase is called
Between ****** up and fine
I know it's not depression
Humiliation, suffer, rage
The poem to describe this
Would just be an empty page

Some day, we have to stop blaming everyone else.
Our father for leaving.
Our teachers for not letting us be kids.
Our sister for needing more help.
Our mother for not giving more.
Our friends for not understanding.
Our exes for not being gentle.

Someday now it's time to woman up
Get in charge
And **** all those external influinces.

You have so much in your hands
They have nothing over your happiness.

He walks with pavarotti in his vains and calls his daughter rock and roll.
His charm is the face of the restaurant.

In the kitchen two man are sweating above pastas and antipasti to feed their children tajine at home.

On the terrace there are girls trying not to drop any glasses because of the guy on table 204.

There's a guy behind the bar that was bad in his country, and now feels what is normal.

They speak of the boss as if he's always watching, though he's rarely ever there.

There are 10 different nationalities in there but when the chorus of a certain song plays they all sing that one word.

*Bellisimo.

You still take my breathe sometimes,
and my mouth craves to speak all the vowels of your name.
Oh how the memory of your touch still echos through this town and all drunken dark alleys always lead to your voice.

If I could go back I would have never met you because all we learned this time is that life was still a *****,
no matter how well you mean or how hard you try or how sincere it feels.

I'd give so much to erase you and your ghost that's watching over everything I do.
Sometimes I find it staring at me or whispering terrible things to my mind at night.
You were good for nothing, not a lesson learned.
Everytime I pass that balcony my heart forgets to beat.
I still spend hours fighting feelings that were supposed to be long gone and (godverdomme ik mis je)

And it just won't stop

Don't ask me those questions
for I have no idea why I am like this either.
All I know is how I'd be easier without his abscense.
Don't ask me what I want
because I don't know how to analyse these feelings
let alone turn them in words.

Please don't ask me
and just be here just close enough for me to grab
and figure out everything at the speed of zero
as I trace you
Up
and
Down
and
as I look at you and put all the pain in my eyes
I hope you can read it.

I just don't know the answers.

I blame you, dad
For all the ****** up things I do to myself
I blame you for the meds I take
I blame you for the guys I choose
I blame you for everytime I fall in love and every anxiety attack
I blame you when my body starts to tell me that I'm wrong
I blame you for all this ****
For me desperately loving my uncle
Untill the point that I'm terrified that maybe
Just maybe
He doesn't like everything about me
Just like I do with every ******* guy
And I blame you
I wish you were different
And here
I wish you'd just think of these things
And care
Just a little
But you don't
And I can't figure out how you do that
So I blame you

Slowly I am getting rid of
All the layers of smells in this bed.
I'm keeping my own this time.

I must admit
I forgot a name on the list
But I am totally behind my theory
Of doing what you want
I swear
I have never felt *****
Or banged my head in the shower
Because this is my idea of fun
And I don't mind thay my name is not remembered
I really don't
Even though I remember
Everything

A cigarette burnt my hand
And you were there tonight
My first thought was not
You're so beautiful
But a less desperate
How the **** should I act
And it still hurts
But I guess I'm moving
Right

If I could stretch a moment
Your fingers would still be slightly touching my palm
Writing cirkles in my skin as my heart races
In a certain place

If I could pause the world I'd grab you
As nobody could see us
In a room filled with people
There'd be only you and me

If I could press fast forward
You'd be lying here inside me
Because we all know it will happen
We just don't know when or where

*This tension
I live for this

It's not love
untill I wrote a poem about you.

I think the scary part is that
eventually we all become strangers
and the body you used to let yours sleep against
only two months ago
now silently tells you to keep distance.

I think what hurts the most is that
you used to look at them and know exactly
what was going through their mind
and now the only thing you are sure of
is that it's not you.

You used to call them when you felt like **** and
now you're fighting yourself all night
not to dial their number.

They used to fill your mind
first thing in the morning
and your mouth would easily curl up,
now they're the last thing at night
you think about and maybe
you have never even known eachother.

This is exorcism.

I walk from home to school from work back home and my eyes stopped changing shades.

All kinds of demons try to get out of me as I stare to nothing in particular and it scares me.

I would fight or run if only I had the energy. Or the courage. Or the fear.

My eyes used to change shades.

Of the first time I saw you.
You wore a Barcelona football shirt and
you were so tanned
and happy and didn't look at me
for a second.

Of that time in your attick
with Ed Sheeran on repeat and
we looked at eachother for hours
with our skin pressed and
our voices broken.

Of the fight we had one week before
you told me we were through.
And I catch myself thinking maybe
I should have just shut up and ****** you.

Of the trainride of two hours from
sober to what the ****
and all of a sudden it was just us
in a tent and your lips on my soul.

Of the smoking area where you jumped
me and when we kissed for the first time
and you licked my face because I laughed
at you and ran away.
(This one is ruined. The exact same thing.)

Of two weeks before the end
when you were the sweetest you ever were
and I was so happy and in love
while you already wasn't.

Of you holding my hand when you
saw me getting scared
when that crazy guy walked past us
and you never ever asked me how did he
scare me but comforted me anyway.

Of you sitting on my couch telling your friend
isn't she the cutest thing you've ever seen
and him agreeing and me making you tea.

Of you calling me snoezepoez
and making cat sounds and me
listening to them on repeat.

Of you on my birthday.
You were the only one there at twelve o'clock and
you didn't know if I was going to like it and
I fell in love right then and there.

You came here for the last time
About a month ago
I snorted up your scent the last time
When I was finally ready to clean our sheets
We had our last talk about us
I still hear the words echoing around this building
Our last party has finished
The tickets sold and given away
For the last time you gave me a kiss
Though it tasted like guilt
I think today I told the last person you left
Slowly there's no evidence left
That we ever were more than this

I can not let go now
But last time after last time
I'm letting it be

In a few months
This won't hurt as much
And you will be happy with yourself

On one of those nights
You will be dancing
Or ordering a drink

And I ask you
Hey
To think twice
What's your name
About the trouble
Nice to meet you
You're getting yourself in
I've never seen you before
And all the pain
We should go out sometime
You had to feel to get there

What was your name again?
Too late

Can we get another round?
Are you working tomorrow?
I'm staying here all weekend.
Haven't seen you in so long!
What time did you get home?
Come on, one more!
You've never been there?
I have to get up early.
Same time next week.
Did you sign up already?
What are we eating tonight?
It's free until 1.
I can come after work!
Are you coming or what?

It was so much fun.
This is so much fun.

**(I  miss you. )

I am an addict.

Every picture of my childhood shows me holding a man or a man holding me.
They thought it was cute.
Twelve birthdays later he still never showed
and they don't think it is cute no more.
They're right.
It's desperate.

But isn't the point of getting sober to find happiness.
Well I'm sober now.
And I know the only thing right now that can fix me

is the dark hairs on the back of a hand or
that smell they all wear.

And if it's true that we always stay addicted,
I am ******.

I dream about dreaming in bed against your skin
I secretly still keep your side of the bed clean

I dream of coming home to you wanting to come back
Everytime I walk this street I pray and hold my breathe

I dream of having dreamt all this and you waking me up
Every night I fall asleep I think about you, love


But most of all I dream of me
Free of the fears I hold
Happily ever after
For me means to be alone.

Where did we go from
Just follow my breathing
With the three of us in the bathroom
A broken wine glass on the floor
And all I could feel was
Her chest against and away from my back
To guide me back to reality
As I traced it with my longues.

What happened between
This one year and a half
That made us strangers
In some competition
Which no one will eventually win
But everyone will be exhausted after.

Did I change too much
Or didn't you for too long?