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#twoyears
“You were blonde when we met” You said Lips pulled into Your sinister smile. “I wanted you so bad.” Exactly 730 days since our lips met. But who’s counting? 730 days of trying to leave But You pulling me back. Each time hoping for something different, But ending always the same. Me, alone. You with her or her or her, Or even next to me. But still: You leaving me alone. (Until You get lonely).
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Aug 27, 2018
Aug 27, 2018 at 12:32 AM UTC
730
my eyes were open for two years fear, I couldn't close them, even when it was so clear what had I just signed up for, you swore, why are we in a civil war waiting for you to just ******* crash but with your stash, you're having a blast drifting away from reality, carefree, giving me the third degree, you lost me control couldn't save you and neither could I I knew we just both had to survive I felt weak, but now I know I was strong my eyes were tired for being open for so **** long you didn't just crash, you ******* burned you burned all of your bridges with no where left to turn flight or fight, fright, I can't trust you without a ******* knife, I closed my eyes, finally, and I suddenly gained all sight I didn't need a reason to help you but maybe I wanted to close my eyes again maybe I wanted peace, a close to an end because for two years, I couldn't close my eyes so thank you now I am wise
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May 17, 2018
May 17, 2018 at 1:16 AM UTC
two years
My textbooks, propped between our knees, I study how this became our hot dates and the way I get to lean on your chest makes me tingly, shallow-breathed, but I shift around so you don’t feel my heart bumping in between the stillness of our bodies. —stillness— We lay in the same bed and actually sleep; no squeezing fingers and searching mouths, but at least our clothes stay on and I don’t have to search for my nightgown shoved under wrinkled sheets, or worry about ****** wrappers stuck to my skin. Finished with our club meetings and fundraisers, we act like weekend warriors, clinking bottles in half-lit rooms, sliding around, laughing in each other’s faces and once we’ve smoked our stress away, I place your hand under the ruffles of my skirt and kiss your neck, whispering I want you Please touch me I need you but you put your lips to my forehead, mumbling that you’re tired and won’t keep it up because you’re strung out on Red Bull and Adderall, promising we will tomorrow night.
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Mar 10, 2015
Mar 10, 2015 at 4:46 PM UTC
Honeymoon Stage
Do you know what today is?      Today is the two year anniversary           Of when I began to confide in you                On a late night drive back from Barnes & Noble                     You wanted to buy me dinner                          So by the light of your dashboard                               I was forced to explain --                                    I chose to tell you --                                         That I had a problem and couldn't eat                                              And you told me that I'd be okay                                                   Which I later was                                                        Up until the day you cut me out
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Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 5:06 PM UTC
French Fry
almost two years, oh god, two whole years and you still ******* haunt my mind. still wake me up at night breathing heavily, bathed in sweat, crying harder than i think is possible, screaming for you to stop, hands off, not yours. i haven't been "yours" for almost two years and you still hold a knife in my chest.
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Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 1:03 PM UTC
Untitled
It's the day Of sorrow and grief it's the day I'm tired the that I leaped Today marks two years Of that time I don't speak of The day it all ended The day I wasn't mended The girl was away What else could I say I was alone and afraid My life wasn't made My stomach full of lead It's all in my head I collapse on the bed I'm already dead
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Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 12:58 AM UTC
The Day I Died Trying
I walk these roads as if I had known that letter boxes are more like an ice-box for transplant hearts- you must move quickly or else time tames the rest. Words were like the map of veins drawn on the back of my hands; I thought that maybe if I keep on walking my heartbeat like a siren beating very fast could guide me home. And I am home.
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Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 8:56 PM UTC
Second season