#gettingoverit
I never forgot about you
May be I will never be able to
But one thing is for sure
Our paths will always be two
Oct 12, 2020
Oct 12, 2020 at 4:18 AM UTC
I was feeling
Really ****** tonight
But listening to Astoria
Has kinda made it better
It tells the story of getting over a break up
And sometimes
We need to revisit old relationships
And work through them again
I think that's part of being human
Jan 27, 2019
Jan 27, 2019 at 3:17 AM UTC
i'm hoping a sunrise
will someday dawn
and remind me
of how to view the horizon
not picturing in my mind
you being happy with
someone else...
Dec 24, 2018
Dec 24, 2018 at 12:02 AM UTC
Welp
You did it.
You made me cry.
It’s been so long too
so long
I was doing alright —
shoving stuff down
because thats what im good at
But this uncorked a whole bottle
of my Grade A Premium Tears—
youre welcome by the way
theyre nice and aged
i know its your favorite drink
I wonder if you even know—
That you made me cry...
and if you do, then are you gonna apologize?
because ive got stuff to do
that wasnt just an excuse
So... I mean, that wasn’t really called for.
I wonder how long you’ll take
This time.
its never been that long before
itd take longer if it was genuine
You’re good at saying sorry but you never mean it.
youre like the opposite of my last one
Usually it’s, “I’m sorry, I love you, I know I’m a ****
And I say, “It’s ok, you are but I love you anyways.” —
because for some reason i do
i dont know why
i probably shouldn’t, you really are an ***
but like... youre hot
and im *****
So—
I’m 95% sure I do love you.
I wonder if it’s you who made me mean?
or if it was them
theyre ***** too
Maybe I was always mean, and you brought it out—
i wouldnt be surprised
i can be a *****
That’s why this is a problem anyways.
I do know
You made me cry
It’s been so long.
Mar 1, 2018
Mar 1, 2018 at 2:07 AM UTC
He called me beautiful
But he made me feel ugly
he hurt me
I can never be fixed
he denied what he did
But bragged to his friend
Is that all I am?
A toy?
Apr 24, 2017
Apr 24, 2017 at 1:53 PM UTC
your eyes were the thing that got me hooked, the first dose of your drug. then, you made me feel special and worth something, the second dose; the addiction was growing. and as time progressed, my addiction grew and my vision became fuzzy, and you became all of me. that's when I overdosed. and now you're gone and I'm just an addict with a pen. I think it's time to become sober. my dear darling of a drug, this is where the pain stops and you become nothing but a memory and I begin to detoxify.
Jul 11, 2016
Jul 11, 2016 at 12:31 PM UTC
*Why did she have to mend herself,
And pretend like everything was fine.
When no day passed without a sob,
As she lay drunk with wine.
She held the bottle to her lips,
And with every single sip,
It was as if she drowned again,
It was as if she waned away.
The memories blurred as the days passed on ,
As she looked for something to hold on.
But honey, you see, the days are gone,
When you could expect a shoulder to cry on.*
Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 1:57 AM UTC
Some days, when the skies turn into dark, steely greys, and the rain pours down like the Gods are weeping, I make an effort to pull out the dusty box in the back of my closet. Within it, are memories that are better off forgotten. Everyone who has ever been a part of them, think that these ancient artifacts have been long destroyed, reduced to rubble, burned in fires too bright and strong to survive. However, these items, these photos, these ancient pieces from another era, another time, another life, are reminders of just how far I’ve come. I can pull out a hoodie, deep red, the colour of my blood on my sheets after you left and wrap myself in it to find comfort from the storm raging outside my window. You see, these memories are some things that may be better off erased and destroyed, but every once in a while, when the fragility of life is made apparent, you need to be able to pull out a dusty box, filled with belongings of your seventeen year old self, young and in love, fearlessly taking on and navigating the bumpy roads, of holding two lives in your hands, and working tirelessly to blend them together. You’ll fall in love again, maybe you already have, but you will never fall in love for the very first time again, and it’s important to physically be able to hold that too hot summer in your hands; where the weather only allowed you to sit by the water with the air conditioning on full blast, playing songs on a hand burned CD, talking about the future like you had a clue of what it would bring. It’s important to remember what being naïve and infinite was like. It’s important to be able to remember him. It’s important to let yourself remember him.
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 7:09 PM UTC
I still go to our favorite spot
The one where you kissed me for the first time,
Where you told me you loved me for the first time,
Where you promised me the world, forever.
That one spot, where you hurt me for the first time.
Where our passion fueled conversations turned dark
Where you finally gathered the nerve to tell me to my face
I don't love you anymore.
Yeah, I still go to our favorite spot,
Even if it's not you I bring with me anymore.
Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 2:24 PM UTC
i feel like a bird that flew right into a window
that you pointed at and laughed
i feel like the shaven-head celebrities
the crack addicts
the high, homeless hippies on the street
i feel like a person of Wal Mart
the awkward couple that shows way too much PDA in public
the punchline of a fat joke
(i see all the fingers pointed at me as--)
i struggle to bend my wings into shape again
but i've taken to writing poetry and cutting up pieces of newspaper
to fit between the ruffled feathers
i shouldn't still have brain damage from the collision i had with your pride (sixteen miles high)
but maybe i do
i tap on the glass just to make sure that i really am a fool
and to see if you'll look back
to see me redeem myself
to see me fly
a
w
a
y.
(but you don't)
Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 4:36 AM UTC
I used to have a women so vain
Lashed out in cruelness and repressed her own pain
A darkened festered soul
I dare not speak her name
And she only has her self to blame
She came to my door
She was slashed and trembling
She didn't need to speak
I could read her rather clear, within six months
An extensive time of healing
Of overwhelming feelings
I did all that I could do
Then she turned to me and said "I love you"
Then we were through
What could I do?
Two years, by her side
Her heart of frozen fire
And the lies she told
With the mouth of treason
Left without reason
Valentine
I ran to the woods
I lost my mind
Her shadow was no more
She is gone
Her parents keep her spoiled
Her friends keep her drunk
And the world, forgets about her
And she knows it, she hates it
But she craves for attention
Yet she remember our time
The times and patience
Our ventures into tears and laughs
And all the experiences we ate
Now I reside in the mountains
And she lives by the shore
We don't speak
But we've moved on
And I'm still standing
And she's still mad
I did my best
Apr 12, 2014
Apr 12, 2014 at 6:58 PM UTC