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#unfinishedlove
When I rewrite you, every letter bleeds— as if you are the last address of hope, the final breath I’m forced to spend. Why was mercy so easily given to everyone else, and denied to me? Who told you I was less human? We loved once. Don’t deny it. But when we left, We left the mess— for followers to pick through the remains, to turn our wreckage into an empire of stories. We never had closure. We never even began. But don’t ever say, We never happened. Now I know, All those times— It was me. It was you. It was two untrained creatures locked in a cage.
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Feb 4
Feb 4, 2026 at 12:15 AM UTC
When I rewrite you
I smile at my reflection, and feel so lonely— summer lingers in the shape of a kiss; yet insecurities spring up in the raindrops of my tears. They storm the fragile corners of my heart, where she once found the cracks and called them rooms. Know what we are given can never be repaid, still we chase the interests of love— a debt we keep trying to make good. Sometimes we reach for forbidden fruit, taking more than a bite, and find the pruning knife was ours all along. Not everything that’s fruitful is fated to ripen. Perhaps that’s this smile—_a purpose fulfilled,_ in the feast that ended too soon. I only hope she doesn’t bite more than she can bear to swallow; or bites through her own jaw just to chew; biting herself apart just to taste what’s gone... as most will bite the mouth that once kissed them full.
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Oct 20, 2025
Oct 20, 2025 at 2:32 PM UTC
More Than We Can Chew
You urged me to leave, to fly, to conquer this life. But my wings feel heavy, a descent into the raw, relentless pain of a love that both shaped us and shattered us, leaving wounds that time only deepens. Music is stained by you, you’re woven into every note, recalling to me both what you gave and what you took away. Your pain bleeds through every lyric, questioning me, forcing me to question myself: Is it my memory that chains you to the dark? When will songs ever lose your echo? I hope you found peace in my songs for you. And they make your soul rest, like it did in my arms. My love falling around you like a perfect harmony, a warm melody that lingers, but that failed to heal.
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Jun 24, 2025
Jun 24, 2025 at 6:50 PM UTC
Echoes Of Us—Act Two—Heavy Wings
Darling, you are the trail of salty cheeks and all the sin that reeks. You cried after your very first kiss—the kind that tasted like lies, the kind that convinced you it might last. But lust? Lust is just deceit in disguise— a beautiful trick of the mouth. You tried to overstep the world, but stubbed your toe against life’s edge, pushing harder than you were ever meant to move. And still, no matter how many nightmares rip through your sleep, the bed stays soft. And indifferent. You wrapped all your dreams in an old cloth, thinking maybe passion—true passion—could burn hotter than any of them. Your love is precious, nearly pure. But the purest intent rarely carries you far. It only cuts deeper. And the purest scars are always the ones left by trying to love right— and too hard. The days vanish too quickly beneath passion’s flame. The lame try to stand tall. The insomniac finds the courage to dream again. And I— I wear my faith like a badge, only to have it thrown back in my face. Still, we do what we must. We put on that brave face. We face the morning. We press on. Because that’s what love leaves behind— something unfinished, something heavy, something we wear like the skin on our face.
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Jun 1, 2025
Jun 1, 2025 at 4:04 PM UTC
What Love Leaves Behind
I lost someone who still breathes, But the heart that once knew them is hollow, A ghost in a space where dreams should be, Stuck between what was and what could follow. A version of me never came to be, A story left half-written, In the silence of what was never said, A love that was forbidden. How do you grieve when the ending's unclear? When they’re still here, but gone all the same, When your soul is waiting, but they disappear, Leaving only ashes and a forgotten name. I stand in ruins of what almost was, A place of longing, without a sound, And though I pretend I’ve moved on, I’m still here, waiting to be found.
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Mar 4, 2025
Mar 4, 2025 at 10:52 AM UTC
Unfinished Lines