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Don't be scared, Love;
show me your scars.
Give me a piece of your soul,
and maybe a glimpse of your mind.

I could show you beauty,
without a field of flowers.
And an amazing high,
without the foul aftertaste.

Just let me in,
let me feel your pain.
I'll touch your soul,
and make you go insane.
2/19/2017
 May 2017 f ł ø w ë r
carissa
):)
 May 2017 f ł ø w ë r
carissa
):)
I didnt paint on a smile or bright blue eyes today
I left my paint in my room, where I wept
I lost my passion to do anything
i´d **** for that feeling
to not feel
at all
:)
You will never understand
What it feels like
To lie in bed at night
Not being to think about anything
Apart from the pair of scissors on your desk
Just three metres away.
You will never understand
What it feels like
To be kept alive by one person.
To completely rely on their love
And their very being.
And you will never understand
What it's like to hurt that someone
So much
Because you don't realise you are
Hanging onto the cracks in their foundations.
You are ripping them apart
And you're so self-consumed that
You don't notice them crumbling
Beneath your touch.
You will never know what it's like
To love life with such a passion
That your missed opportunities
Threaten to **** you.
You will never understand
How it is both a blessing a curse
To feel every emotion so deeply.
So purely.
To feel anger pumping through your bloodstream
To feel sadness dragging you to the bottom
To feel joy lifting you of the ground
And excitement bursting through you
Like sunbeams breaking through clouds.
You will never understand
How hard the simplest things are.
How contributing in class makes you sweat.
How him being late sends your heart into anaphylactic shock.
How leaving the house is enough to trigger a panic attack.
You will never understand
The difficulty of loving someone who doesn't notice you.
Because, believe me, no matter how long you live with it,
You will never get used to everyone meaning the world to you,
And you nothing to them.
You will never understand
How challenging it is to exist,
How hard it is to hold on to life.

You will never understand.
And I am so glad you won't.
 May 2017 f ł ø w ë r
ryrosaur
Skin
Heat
Hair
Eyes; she's looking up at me again.
Her eyes.
Green-blue-grey-gold sparks of magic in an otherwise dull world.
She knows how to make me beg with those eyes - mainly because she understands that I can deny her nothing.
She is okay with that.
She is okay with my powerlessness in the face of her beauty.
I am not okay, for I am always weak and unready to face her as she takes the hand of the boy that she has chosen and walks away.
She expects me to follow her out of loyalty, out of trust.
She know that I will follow, but she thinks that it is because of our "friendship".
She doesn't know how far I've already fallen.
 May 2017 f ł ø w ë r
ryrosaur
So, there's this musical that I've become obsessed with.
That's normal, right?
Yeah.
I suppose.
Naturally, I've been listening to the soundtrack.
Over and over and overandoverandover because that's what I do.
I replay things until they're so old I can't bring myself to care.
But that isn't the focus of this one - that'll be covered another time, when I have a chance, when I've got a life.
A song on this soundtrack that I seem to favor is titled "Waving Through A Window", and I'm just amazed by the artistry of this particular song. It's so focused, guys.
It's real.
The singer is trapped behind a personality he's built up for himself, you know?
It reminds me of me - trapped behind a hypothetical "window" of sorts, fighting myself just to get out and be seen for once.
But there's also that fear of not being liked, of not being accepted, because I'm really a horribly numb human and I don't want to scare anybody away.
So I guess I'll just keep waving through this ******* window.
I'm ranting about Dear Evan Hansen, okay?
 May 2017 f ł ø w ë r
ryrosaur
I like this girl.
Granted, I'm not supposed to like her - I'm not even allowed to like girls, as if they think I can just avoid addressing my sexuality.
But I like her.
 May 2017 f ł ø w ë r
ryrosaur
Sometimes it hurts to breathe.
Other times I'm running on automatic.
Sometimes I'm in control - which leads me to question the God that thought it was a good idea to put somebody like me in charge of the vital function of getting the air into my lungs.
But most of the time, I'm not.
I don't focus on breathing.
So it goes up and down and speeds up and slows down and comes out heavy and comes out quietly a n d t h e n i t s t o p s
And I'm free for a moment.
i acted cool.
You know, like how they do it on TV.

27 floors up,
your door was unlocked.

i didn't take my shoes off,
that way you could see the bad *** i really am,
deep down.

You know, you told me you loved me.
That's why I came.
i believed you.

Oh, how naive of you, i think back now.

I sat on your beat-down chair,
while you sprawled out on the floor-level couch.

I was terrified,
but the kids on TV are never scared.

He said he loved you.
No one else has ever felt that way before.
He loves you, kid.
You can do it.

Come cuddle on the couch?
Meh, maybe if i feel like it later.

Play. It. Cool.

i slide unto the foot of your ***-stained sofa.
i can feel your feet shaking behind my back,
your toes teasing my sides,
poking in and out between my ribs.

i know what you want,
and i want it too.

Keep. It. Cool. Kid. Keep it Cool.

i feel my hands slip out of your tight grasp,
my fingers inching their way up your leg,
following the dips of your pelvic bone.

What is happening?

The taste of you is so foreign to me.
i've never known the sweetness of another human being.

Let's go to your room?

Kid, it's just like on TV.

Okay, yeah, i guess if you really want to.

i didn't want to take my clothes off.

The world was spinning,
i was seeing and feeling things i didn't know to exist.

What is happening?

i love you.
i love you, i love you.

it's all over,
i leave.
27 floors of shame.

not only don't you love me,

you don't talk to me.

— The End —