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#loveafterloss
if it all went away today, would you still be mine? if it all went away today, will i be fine? the clock just ticks away, and these wasted years have left me astray. i can’t re-live, and live in fear, but i don’t know how to set myself free. (is anybody there?) i’m not well, and time will tell when the pieces finally fit together, and i make sense of this hell. if it all went away today, would you still be mine?
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Nov 22, 2025
Nov 22, 2025 at 5:05 AM UTC
would you still be mine?
I see your smile in buildings, you still live in my heart — a part of me; apartment walls built up and down, all of their tenants moving in and out. A crowded room, one bathroom, toothpaste crust on the sink — my living room feels so uncomfortable not living with you. The kitchen light hums, drawing cockroaches out at night, not even shy when we stare eye to eye — I guess even pests get used to company. Cupboards empty, with only food for thought to feed my hope. Still I pray the rent isn’t overdue — the landlord of depression bangs on my door at the end of the month, the middle of the month, the beginning — _anytime he wants_. We shared this house, but never lived in our hearts. We shared this mattress, but never rested our worries. We shared this address, yet got lost chasing after each other. Now, the buildings are all vacant — windows hollow, paint of your smile peeling off the walls, flaking down like tired laughter. And every echo, sounds like your name.
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Nov 4, 2025
Nov 4, 2025 at 3:25 PM UTC
Vacant Buildings of You
Dig into my chest like it’s bare soil—make it a grave, not for mourning, but for planting. Let my heart be buried like a seed, not as a casualty. **** out what once wrapped itself around me like vines of bitterness, strangling my better nature. And if love is to grow, let it bloom where my brokenness once lived. To those who fall in love, only to fall harder out of it—do not call yourselves foolish. Rising from that grave, petals torn but still reaching for the sun, aren’t you the rose that dared the dirt? Beautiful in _defiance_, bruised __but not defeated__. Each morning, the sun rises like it’s trying to convince me it’s worth beginning again. Beneath that light, my thoughts crash like waves against the cliffs of a heart too mountainous to climb. I keep counting stars like uncashed wishes, dreams I tuck into the corners of silence. Love plays its hand close to the chest— a secret it folds into itself, waiting to be revealed when the moment is just right. But I’ll never know enough. Maybe I wasn’t meant to. But I have loved—_truly, painfully, and almost beautifully_. And that should count for something, by the sum of this heart that still beats, and still believes, but also still breaks. So here I am, with these cards on the table. No bluff left in me. Even a faithful lover would cry, 'God, are you listening; deal me a better hand. Not one free of pain, but one I can hold with both hands steady. One that doesn’t slip through the cracks I’ve tried so hard to mend. But one I can grip with love, and not lose again.' __But oh, how you'll weep— not for what’s been lost, but for what you're scared to lose.__
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Aug 2, 2025
Aug 2, 2025 at 5:20 AM UTC
To Love, and Be Dealt Again
Dig into my chest like it’s bare soil—make it a grave, not for mourning, but for planting. Let my heart be buried like a seed, not as a casualty. **** out what once wrapped itself around me like vines of bitterness, strangling my better nature. And if love is to grow, let it bloom where my brokenness once lived. To those who fall in love, only to fall harder out of it—do not call yourselves foolish. Rising from that grave, petals torn but still reaching for the sun, aren’t you the rose that dared the dirt? Beautiful in _defiance_, bruised __but not defeated__. Each morning, the sun rises like it’s trying to convince me it’s worth beginning again. Beneath that light, my thoughts crash like waves against the cliffs of a heart too mountainous to climb. I keep counting stars like uncashed wishes, dreams I tuck into the corners of silence. Love plays its hand close to the chest— a secret it folds into itself, waiting to be revealed when the moment is just right. But I’ll never know enough. Maybe I wasn’t meant to. But I have loved—_truly, painfully, and almost beautifully_. And that should count for something, by the sum of this heart that still beats, and still believes, but also still breaks. So here I am, with these cards on the table. No bluff left in me. Even a faithful lover would cry, 'God, are you listening; deal me a better hand. Not one free of pain, but one I can hold with both hands steady. One that doesn’t slip through the cracks I’ve tried so hard to mend. But one I can grip with love, and not lose again.' __But oh, how you'll weep— not for what’s been lost, but for what you're scared to lose.__
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It's not a fairy-tale It's just love, you and me Learning to give Learning to be Don't get me wrong, your love It's true And deep And Strong But it's not a fairy-tale It never will be Not like it was with him and me But a smolder still creates heat It's not a fairy-tale But it's not defeat
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Dec 3, 2018
Dec 3, 2018 at 11:31 AM UTC
It's not a fairy-tale