#betweenthelines
I sometimes wonder if boys who wear specs feel love a little differently Not because they see less clearly, but because someone somewhere once helped them choose how they'd be seen It's a quiet sort of intimacy when she scrolls through your indecision, pauses, and says "this one suits you." And somehow in that moment it’s not just about specs. It’s about being understood gently and still accepted
Maybe it’s absurd to romanticize frame choices, but love has always lived in absurdities. In screenshots of shortlisted pairs. In a voice that says, "trust me on this one," and you do not just with glasses, but with things far deeper She doesn’t touch you, not really But she leaves traces in the shape of your reflection, in the way you begin to carry yourself, unknowingly echoing her taste
And even if she’s not yours, even if nothing’s ever said or claimed, there's something sacred about wearing what she picked. It’s a closeness unmeasured, a kind of nearness no label can hold. You walk into the world every day with something she once chose sitting quietly on your face. And maybe that's enough sometimes love is just the privilege of being seen before you've even figured out how to see yourself
And funny thing is, no one notices.
No one sees how you pause a second longer at the mirror not out of vanity, but memory. No one hears the silence you carry in your chest when you put those specs on, like you’re slipping into a version of yourself curated by someone else’s kindness. Someone who saw you not as you were, but as you could be.
There’s a kind of longing in that a longing without ache, without urgency. Just presence. A quiet respect for what was never yours to keep but always yours to carry.
And sometimes, I catch myself wondering—when she sees someone else now, does she ever recall that call, that chat, that frame? Does she ever think, “He really did choose what I picked”? Or was I just a passing moment in her day, while she became a permanent corner in mine?
But I never asked. That’s the thing about this kind of love it doesn’t need closure It’s made of choices, not conclusions. And that’s what makes it last longer than most.
Jul 8, 2025
Jul 8, 2025 at 4:52 AM UTC
I use metaphors
and you like
the awkward pause
My Dear
It would be
a lot better,
If you could see
all the signs
and let me read
all the unsaid words
between the lines...
Oct 30, 2020
Oct 30, 2020 at 9:44 AM UTC
fake smiles
white lies
empty desires
i’m lost in the
endless layers
of your mask
bodies untouched
gazes unmet
promises unkept
i found nothing
in the insincerity
of your love
May 24, 2020
May 24, 2020 at 11:16 PM UTC
Sure I'm Fine
I'm Hurting
Yeah, I love myself
I need more makeup
I'm so over him
I wish he was here
My family is perfect
They're fighting again
I'm over that phase
I still wanna die
Oh, I'm sorry
I'm so sorry
Yeah! I'll come
Leave me alone
See you tomorrow
I hope I don't see tomorrow
I think I'm beautiful
I have so many flaws
I've got this
I'm losing it..
Feb 1, 2019
Feb 1, 2019 at 10:12 AM UTC
I never uttered the words "I love you"
but
if you dove deep enough
into the words of my poems
you would have found
"I love you"
between
every letter
Oct 1, 2015
Oct 1, 2015 at 3:40 PM UTC
The garden grows in all directions
Amidst the influence of interfering hands
The waterfall in motion is ceaseless,
Whether asked kindly or implored
Made powerless by that which cannot be changed
Yet, made powerful by knowing that which cannot be changed
The garden grows in all directions
Gardened by our hands
The water falls around us
In the spaces that we created
Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 6:20 AM UTC
You tell me that I am special,
Yet you treat me as lesser.
You recite words that "reflect my beauty"
But I've heard you recite such sweet nothings to others.
You demand to know my feelings
Only to cast yours in disguise.
You praise the "wonders" of my mind
Though when I speak you never listen.
You describe having me as your "greatest decision" and "luckiest find" - you had the gall to tell me I was your rare gem stone, one of a kind.
However I know I am nothing more than option.
Your sweet words and charming romance
May fool your other rare gems,
But my heart is beat and whithered.
Actions speak louder than words Darling -
Your words so full
Your actions scream silence.
Jan 17, 2015
Jan 17, 2015 at 12:08 PM UTC
A worthless instrument filled with sentiment
That is what I want to take
from when I thoroughly become benevolent.
I yearn a reminder of a version
Of myself where I don't have piercing eyes
Or a cold body
Or a stifling loathe of beings similar to myself
Or a need to curl up to a ball when pens *****
Ah fornicate this I can't write anymore
There's a hope buried in me
It multiplies like bamboo shoots entangling
It says grow thorns, be turgid
It says pop horns, stay frigid
I walk down the corridor constantly defying myself
I'm one character I think
Am I
Sep 14, 2013
Sep 14, 2013 at 3:11 PM UTC
there are holes in the sand because of the hermit *****
but the hermits aren’t nearly as beautiful as these
my very solitude is a beauty
but i’m the beast
i will lay upon this rock at the end of the beach
until the shore ***** up and touches me
even if the gods above want to scare me with a little water
even if the claws pinch me
even if the sol water stings me
wash my footsteps away
evidence of my existance is obsolete
i’m but a ghost
spiriting amidst the contemporaneity of it all
shred my skin away
leave them like bones
bones after an apocalypse
i’m their epilogue
the sea is a dog
it barks upon the shore
it pulls you into a tide of glee
it slobbers love in the contours of your face
it invites you in, and doesn’t let go.
Sep 14, 2013
Sep 14, 2013 at 3:41 PM UTC
He creeps near to the foot of my bed
With that smirk
Oh he's come to cocoon me away to his army
Of dented men
With cropped souls
He asked
But never said please
To come with him
Where it's warm
I shook my head
He persuaded me
But never said please
To come with him
Where gems trickle down your face
I said no
He insisted
But never said please
To come with him
Where his home was
I refused
He forced me
But never said please
To come with him
When a comforting light pierced through my eyes
I couldn't see what it was
For it was far too beautiful
It sheered the man away
It was so modest
So against the beauty of living
Of looking, of tasting
It was a stoic;
Passionless
It was like the water
So against the grains of sand
Of dirt, of ink
It was a stoic;
Calm
It was so indifferent
So against the pull of pleasure
Of sin, of feeling
It was a stoic;
Strong
It was like god
It was god
For nothing
Would come close
To freeing the devil off the foot of my bed.
Oct 20, 2013
Oct 20, 2013 at 2:21 PM UTC