#trashed
i blame You for this
t r a s h e d feeling in my
heart,
oh sWeET
song of mine.
Nov 8, 2015
Nov 8, 2015 at 10:24 PM UTC
I don't write about you anymore
At least not like I used to.
I used to feel you through your veins
Used to know you as ingrained in the fabric of the earth
All saltwater and spit like the love you always wanted
Like the love you set on your brow
But I don't write about you anymore except when I'm trashed at three am
Sick of all your talk and the way you put on that shadow when you're begging to be seen
And I do.
I watch you and your perfect teeth talk **** across the room
You say you're happy when you're drunk but I know it isn't true
You're just happy to be apart of something that feels bigger than your skin
Petrified by infinity you don't let your finite nature sink in
You are a biproduct of your generation.
Pastel perfection and ****
Everyone's dream girl
Until you're alone with yourself
And I don't know which is sadder
the way you laugh just a little too loud when the joke wasn't that funny and wasn't directed at you
or the fact that I've been sitting on the floor for an hour and a half and the closest I can come to explaining how I feel is **** you
you never knew me
and you never wanted to"
And it's all I can do to just be near to you at this point
Listen to your hot breath fill the room with bravado and your parents beliefs
You said that people should do whatever they want as long as they're happy
And then turned back around and voiced how concerned you were about your brother's new habits
Just as long as no one judges you or your drunk Snapchat stories you post with your new friends who you'll be tired of in 3 months time
Everything is temporary but nothing seems to stay constant with you
And sometimes I think about how I used you write about you
Your wide eyes and moon shaped face
Heart of the ocean I was reeling in the high tide but now I'm stuck on land again
And even if it seems strange I don't want to go back
Back to when I used to write this way
Back when I was interesting enough for you
I want to sit on the floor in front of you
Hear the words on your tongue
Watch the ivory of your teeth meet your forced smile
I want to be here right now and drink in every god **** drop of your apathy
So I can remind myself who Ill never be
And watch you disopate and collapse
So yeah
I don't write about you anymore
At least not in that way.
Dec 13, 2015
Dec 13, 2015 at 12:53 PM UTC
he underestimated her in beauty. an attraction to fake for calling truthfully real. side comments for fun; some lies, others anonymously touched with fuzzy feelings. no good thoughts before actions came with him, and the effect was shocking on a content soul. who would've thought how strong a few words could last? who would've guessed that a trashed mind could be fulfilled with a small tug of the corners of a strangers mouth? while a being of such isn't rare, the souls true heart speaks for it's self. If something in her beauty meant anything to him, he would've spoken up before now, not lied again and again to the one honest answer that stands before him.
(j.a.r.)
Jul 3, 2015
Jul 3, 2015 at 12:12 AM UTC
So many poems
Written on napkins
And trashed
So many on books
I never found
And many more
In my mind, lost
In the wake of a sleep
Would now be yours
Had I deemed them precious
Dec 15, 2014
Dec 15, 2014 at 1:28 AM UTC
He's a diary
with secrets to spare.
I'm a first draft love
letter that's trashed
half way through the
confession.
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 7:10 AM UTC