Loving someone so much creates an ache in your heart.
- Your chest is tightening due to the anxiety that floods your senses.
- You keep trying not to let stupid words trigger you worse than they have.
- You can't type to save your life because you're shaking too bad.
- You're trying to cook but you end up forgetting what you're doing because you're too distracted by blind hatred.
- Your brain is overwhelmed by its' malfunctioning chemicals and you're somehow still more stable than someone with less abbreviations.
- You find that so funny but you know it's even actually kind of terrible.
- You're so confused because you, the girl who literally said horrible vicious things to someone just so they'd hate you, so you could off yourself without guilt and so they wouldn't have to attend your funeral, thereby ending a friendship in the one of most painful and selfish ways possible, are somehow considered a good person.
- You go to confession multiple times and still don't feel forgiven.
- You remember your views align much more closely with Wicca than Catholicism, but you still call yourself Catholic.
- You just don't understand why people are so stupid.
- It would be laughable if it weren't for the fact that it's technically slander.
- You can't come up with anymore feels because you're disassociating. Oops
"Don't look at me for another 20 minutes
you got a dead look to your eyes,
I don't need it."
this isnt a eulogy for the antichrist
this isn't the garden, this isn't saturday late nights out on the pier, downing beers and a pint of something stronger.
you, infinite, at the center of it all
and my universe in sync.
i can taste the beer on your breath
the kind of mint you never want to try
(i hope you'll kiss me anyway)
whoa it kind of rhymes a little bit that's new
you hated poems so much that you
became one, sweetheart
(tell me, does this suit your tastes?have i gone too far?)
i tried to write a love poem and it turned into a suicide note that doesnt belong to me
i guess you didnt find it romantic when i called you carrotseed,
when i pined so much that i turned my love into a grove of trees
you make comparisons between me and natural disasters like it's a habit you can't get rid of
but there's nothing natural about the way my heart beats when i see you
baby, your eyes have never looked better
fear buckles the eardrum
and seeps into the meninges,
a sense of s
throwing fevered words into pits,
sodden land of briar,
joy braves the skin on your neck
and slides into your vertebrae,
a study in f
sifting sombersong from black plains,
now breastful of magnesia,
the child triumphs.
— The End —