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Sienna 19h
he’s not “the boy she used to love” anymore
he’s just a boy
a boy with issues
a boy who left a girl,
who would have never let him go.

she’s not “the girl he used to love” anymore
she’s now a woman
a woman with issues, yes.
but a woman who lost a boy,
and gained herself.

now, i ask, which one is better off?
els 1d
i didn’t want it to consume me
the feeling of withdrawal shakes my bones more than any substance would
this time there’s no more losing myself
i still think about it even when i shouldn’t
i’m too close to the edge to let myself topple and fall back again
i’m so sick of climbing back up, especially when now i have no ones hand to pull me back
the dopamine i used to stream between my veins is missing
i’m missing a piece of myself
i still want to feel it on the good days
i want to flush the field and start anew but
i don’t know how to
electric currents are running up and down my body
and i am not sure how to hold myself back again
i’m still not over it
i guess i was right in saying i’d never get over it
recovery (or trying, at least)
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 **** 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 ****, 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.
My dad told me when you quit drinking
You finally hear the birds sing
On chirping mornings or dimming evenings
That will now be remembered
Every January through December, from here on out
Now I count every rose petal and press them in books
Jumping onto roofs, but not jumping off them
No more praying on cold bathroom floors
Finally live up to all the promises I made
When I was nothing but a shaking core
Who didn’t ask for help, but begged
To hear the birds again
I'm a recovering alcoholic and almost a month clean. Writing helps.
Just leave behind any words you heard that weren’t kind. Learn to greet your enemy with a smile, It will only hurt for just a while.
a week ago
i turned 26.

two days ago
i hurt myself again
for the first time
in four years.

this time i didn't
use the little blades
from my razor.

this time i
got more personal.
used my own fingernails
to dig deep for the life
i'm scared to live
beneath this skin.

then i took some
deep breaths in
& restarted the journey again.
yikes. isn't it so scary to be so honest with yourself?
I was a *** addict,
starting at seven,
no I didn't have *** then,
but the stage was set
and developing.

Disconnected at home,
parents speaking Chinese,
with no language for love,
I found it elsewhere,
in a stash of sleeze.

Magazines,
make-out scenes,
lingerie ads,
**** scrambed on tv,

my young eyes transfixed
on what I thought was love,
on an illusion,
a fake,
a counterfeit,
hooked on intensity,
longing for intimacy,
a boy devoured by sexuality,
a boy yearning for so much more.
When it all gets to me throw up these hands
Let it all stop let it drop where i strand
Sympathy no i sync up with the beat
Say what I mean as i lay up with the heat

Look at what i made let make a stain
Never lack always on my gain ****
Am I in a cage with the world as a stage
Imma keep on it, keep engaged, sit with pain and beast sonnets

Imma be on it, venom in my veins
Imma be honest Imma get it any which way
Any may imitate but they not the boy
fated, faded fill up the void

Dark night, light wave - I lost all direction
Start my last take - cross me out in sections
When will it stop this madness in my head
Off axis watch this skin when i shed it quick

Send me to the brink don't even have to push me
Can't even think right now the current took me
Over and over and over again
Said it I went and I scratched with the pen

Let it all go - Let it all end
Let it all flow - Let it all in

I write letters to my ghost
He knows me better than most
I remember when he said
You'll never measure even close
  
Is this enough? I think not.
Wanting to grow, stuck in the same spot
******* I'm some ******* monster
On and on I ******* wander

Wondering how i can say this
I didn't ask for this ****
Hoping it leaves me painless
Bound till I'm ashes in the wind

Wondering how i can say this
I didn't ask for this ****
Hoping it leaves me painless
Bound till I'm ashes in the wind
listen here:
https://youtu.be/_hd4yyZRGv4
These scars,
Not a single one of them hurts.
Wounded,
Yes once, but the numbness reverts.

These scars,
I can touch them to remind me.
Wounded,
Yes once, but now it’s behind me.

These scars,
Disfigured skin says now I’m healed.
Wounded,
Yes once, that openness now sealed.

These scars,
Painful though what was hurt’s not there.
Wounded,
Yes once, its permanence laid bare.
Blogging at www.insightshurt.com
Buy “Insights Hurt: Bringing Healing Thoughts To Life” at store.bookbaby.com/book/insights-hurt
Amanda 6d
Silence blows across the arena
Killing the fire and destruction
Into a uneasy calm
And men rouse as if from sleep
And gaze with new born eyes
Across a land that is childless

Tears quench the hurt soul
As the dust of the dead
Are cast into a forgiving wind
And heart weary, they turn for home
Back to a life no longer familiar
And a world changed anew

The arena of battle left deserted
And a bird dares to break the silence
Singing with joyful song
As trees bud in promise and flowers
Bloom in a blaze of heart red
Covering the land, a healing balm
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