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Tequilla Jun 9
Every word I say

already belongs to the past.
Every sentence ends before I’m ready,

just like us.

They say every beginning has an end—

but not every end was given a start.

Like love, 
which crept in silent

the moment loneliness collapsed.

Love met my solitude and said,

“You’ve waited long enough.”

but love never promised forever.

You didn’t either.

I’m not ready to turn the page

if you're not written in the next.

The world stands still for you—
pauses in awe.

Even time stares.

Yet you keep moving,

and I stay frozen—

still stuck

in the moment you left.

Are you real?

Was your love real?

Were we?

I question the truth of you,

the truth of us.

The future fades,

but your face lingers in the dark.

I ask and ask

but all I do

is think of you.

We all die in the end.

Some die with joy,

others with silence.

I will die with sorrow

because my hands won’t be in yours.

For those who break, 
all that's left is breath.

For those who wait, only pain.

Time stops—you move.

Time moves—I don’t.

When you walk away,

I ask if you ever truly loved.

When I stop chasing,

you wonder if I ever truly stayed.

The final moment is always the first.

The first touch, the last ache.

For your dream, I am parched.

For your voice, I starve.

With you,

I feel like less than whole—a soul missing its mirror.

But without you,
there is no half.

There is only 
nothing.
After four years and countless turns of time, I’m still wildly, quietly, endlessly in love with the same man.
And if years are poems, then every line still rhymes with him.
Tequilla Apr 28
here i go, another line,  
half in love, half in decline.  

art is love, and love is cruel,  
it dresses kings, it breaks the fool.  

seventeen and feeling torn,  
too much love for being born.  
ghosts have touched me, not the real,  
i know the want, but not the feel.  

i watch him laugh across the room,  
i breathe him in, i taste the gloom.  
some days he talks, most days he won’t,  
some days i care, some days i don't.  

he laughs with girls, he taps their hands,  
he pulls them close, he understands.  
no second thoughts, no shift, no scare,  
but when it’s me, he won't go there.  

like i'm too sharp, too much, too real,  
too wrong to touch, too big to feel.  
like one brush of my haunted skin  
could **** the soft, sweet life from him.  

maybe he’s right.  
maybe i bite.
Tequilla Apr 27
if i let your lips wreck mine,  
would it have changed a thing in time?  
if nobody came to us,  
would you have acted like your eyes didn’t trust?  
or the way your hands traced my hips,  
like you were trying to remember what my skin felt like,  
and for a second, you’d remember this feeling for a while?  
i know you liked that red dress,  
stained with blood, a mess we left unsaid.  
if i followed you that night,  
would you have kissed me or let me tear you apart?  
every word you spoke felt like fire,  
and every stare you threw at me felt like desire.  
but you never looked back, not even for a while.
but now i have to say goodbye and love others, yet i feel so stupid, we never even dated or kiss...
Tequilla Jan 23
I don’t know how you did it.  
That day, out in the field,  
surrounded by so many faces.  
My eyes found you  
just you.  
And I never looked away.  

You weren’t extraordinary.  
Not the kind of handsome that stops the world.  
But there was something about you.  
Something I can’t explain.  
Like fate took my hand and pointed,  
Him. It’s him.

But nothing happened.  
Nothing ever happened.  
And maybe it never will.  

Yet here I am,  
carrying this feeling like a wound.  
I like you.  
No  
I love you.  
Too much.  
So much it crushes me,  
so much it feels like a sickness.  

It makes me sick to know you don’t feel it.  
That you probably never even saw me.  
That I’m invisible to you,  
just another face in the crowd.  

And maybe I’m not beautiful.  
Maybe the people who say I am  
are just being polite.  
But for you, I would have given everything.  

I’ll probably never see you again.  
But you’ll stay with me.  
You’ll haunt me every day.  
Because I can’t stop thinking about you.  
I’ve tried to leave you behind.  
I told myself,  
This year, I’ll forget.  
But I couldn’t leave you in 2021.  
Or 2022.  
Or 2023.  
And now, here I am,  
dragging you into another year with me.  

I guess we were never meant to be.  
But I’ll keep loving you anyway.  
Even if it tears me apart.
am I insane to love someone I barely know? like the love I feel for him consumes me and I feel like this love I feel for him will never stop
Tequilla Jan 20
I’m tired of swiping, tired of staring  
at faces I’ll never touch.  
The world feels like a crowded room,  
but nobody’s looking my way.  

They say love’s a battlefield,  
but I’m unarmed, bare hands,  
a heart too soft to fight.  
And yet I keep stepping in,  
waiting for a glance, a spark,  
someone to call my name like it’s theirs.  

I don’t want roses,  
don’t need sweet words dripping with lies.  
Give me the mess,  
the bruises, the fire that burns  
when two souls collide too fast.  
I’ll take it raw,  
no filters, no edits,  
just truth.  

Is it too much to ask  
for someone to stay,  
to look at me like I’m the only star  
in their dark sky?  
Or am I just searching  
for something that was never  
meant to be found?
what should I do to improve my writting?
Tequilla Dec 2024
Today was heavy  
sick, tired, sad,  
while the world spun around me.  
Everything moved,  
but I stood still,  
waiting for a push,  
a nudge,  
anything to set me in motion.  

But nothing came,  
just this hollow tide  
washing over me,  
leaving me emptier than before.  

And I wanted to tell you.  
I wanted to say,  
"My day felt like a storm,"  
to hear about yours,  
to feel you near  
through words we’d share.  

But my messages sit silent,  
unread, untouched,  
like a bridge reaching nowhere.  
Maybe you don’t want to talk anymore,  
maybe I’ve become too easy to ignore.  

Still, if you’re leaving  
if this is the end  
don’t fade away like a ghost.  
Tell me goodbye.  
Because your silence cuts deeper  
than any goodbye ever could.
After five days on delivered,  
I texted again,  
hoping you hadn’t seen it  
even though you asked  
if I’d had a bad day.  

But here I am, still waiting,  
and I think I will be  
for a while.
Tequilla Dec 2024
This might be my last poem,  
or the last of me,  
I haven’t told anyone yet,  
but I’ve lost hope, in you,  
in us,  
in what we could’ve been.  

I want to cry.  
I am crying,  
tears soaking the screen  
where I text you again,  
knowing you won’t reply.  

If only I had known  
from the start,  
I would’ve run,  
far and fast,  
but even that’s a lie.  

Because even when the universe screamed,  
"Stop! They don’t love you,"  
I silenced it.  
I rewrote its whispers,  
forcing the stars to spell,  
"They do."  

And now I’m sick,  
sick of this love  
that churns my stomach,  
a sickness that clings,  
making me want to throw it all up.  

This love is a poison,  
an ache that blooms in my chest.  
It’s killing me softly,  
with every beat of a heart  
that still beats for you.
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