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Al Aug 2014
here was something addictive about still pretending to be in love with you. It’s like the quotes and sad music started to become a part of me. But, after months of you leaving, I realise I’m not in love with you, I was just in love with the thought of still holding onto you.”
-I don’t know why I romanticised about you leaving me behind. 
(you-were-my-forever)
Again, not from me but it explains so much. (P.s.- Montgomery don't talk about my poems except on here please. It's private.)
Al Aug 2014
“You need to understand that I’ll never be the girl that begs you to stay. If you decide to walk out of my life, I might be sad for a little while but know that I’ll never chase you. I’ll just let you go.”
Midnight thoughts (I may love you, but i’ll never need you)
Not my write. Just loved it.
elizabeth Jul 2013
we are all rocks. we are built up over many years, influenced by our surroundings as we weather and erode as part of the conditions we are subjected to - the trials that we are put through. we are compressed by the weight of heavy loads. we will be weighed down by our heavy hearts, and crushed by forces of the universe that are bigger than us. we are made up of many sediments, fragments of other rocks. the influence of others. we are the composition of everyone whom we've met, and their impact on our lives. some people leave larger pieces of sediment, while some are smaller than a tiny grain of sand. but they make us who we are today. and we never die. we live on for millions of years, you and me - these rocks are the physical imprints of our spiritual souls on the earth, because everyone affects something in one way or the other. we may not believe it, but believe this: we have the power to change the world - just by being here. we are a part of the bigger picture, a series of rocks that make up part of human history. wherever you go, you will have made your mark. be it just a tiny dent in the soil, or a boulder that fell from a mountain - realise that things would be different if you had not been what you are and gone where you've been.
elizabeth Aug 2014
you are cigarette sticks just lit,
you are a fresh wound on an old stitch.
a disorder spun out of control,
watching as madness takes hold - clutch
breaks - what happens next - your
life begins to unfold. creases form like
scars that never quite leave, mistakes
we break, we drown and we bleed.
i can't live without them is the greatest
lie: love kills you from the inside out,
toxic chemicals rampage fire through
your veins: hooked, hooked, hooked
lined and sunk; funny how we continue
to live with it only because we die with it.
elizabeth Aug 2014
what people don't and will never understand is
when your chest tightens and you find it hard to breathe
and it hits you like a breaking wave:
the overwhelming feeling of hopelessness; but the wave
was devoid of water or any physical composition.
still, somehow, water, from your eyes, drips out like a broken tap -
your cheeks are too numb to feel it.
no alarm, no signal, no call to tell you that
the roller coaster's carriage is on its way,
to warn you that it is about to pick you up,
playing you like a child who just learnt to throw paper aeroplanes.
binge - bruise - cut - bruise - binge - cut
numb to any sensation and devoid of feeling

the roller coaster comes to an end eventually.
yet the guilt of the aftermath stays -
but there is, a temporary moment of solace in the waiting -
until it comes again.
The other night, I was experienced a really bad panic attack and this is a result of the aftermath. For the past few months, I have been plagued by sporadic panic attacks and trying to talk to people about it never worked out as they didn't truly understand what it meant and entailed. Hence, I turned to words to try to express what it felt like.

If anything, this poem is more of a personal documentation of what I feel as I'm going through an attack. These panic attacks place you on the line between consciousness and its antithesis; bordering between losing your mind and preserving your self-control.

I hope that these words may resonate with whoever reads them and even if they don't; that they may open the eyes of those who may never have heard of panic attacks before, or know someone who gets them. Empathy goes a long way.
Faith Aug 2014
Gravity tried so very hard to force us together,
but I just couldn't keep my grasp on you.
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