It’s 2 am, I am still awake
Because you’re still online.
I really should be sleeping now,
But what if you decide to write me?

I keep on checking on my phone,
I look at screen once every 20 seconds.
I count them up, each in my head
And get excited after 20th.

One, two, three, four, five, six…

I think it is on silent mode,
There's a chance, I have received a message.
I check my phone - it’s not.
You haven’t wrote, you’re still online…

One, two, three, four, five, six… I am fine.

I stalked your social media - I stalked your Insta, Facebook.
I looked for you on Twitter but I don’t think you’re on there.

You didn’t post that much, but still I stalked you day and night.
Until you blocked me everywhere after a few drunk calls and texts.

I found you on Tinder. You didn’t match me back.
Oh well, I am sure, you simply haven’t seen me…

Please make a YouTube channel, it’d make my life way easier!
I’d watch your vlogs, it’d feel like you are with me.

I think it'll help with my addiction!
Oh actually… It’ll only make it worse...

But still, please make a YouTube channel!
I’d love to know what are you up to.

Where do you live?
Where do you like to go to for food?

You know, how life creates coincidences…
It might become my favourite place to eat from now too.

You’re all alone,
Sometimes getting messages,
Sometimes not
To go on Tinder dates
And so sometimes you go.

Some go real ****,
I mean it’s Tinder, dah.
But latest one goes kinda well,
And so you go with it,
You wanna settle down.

The only thing
He’s a proper *******
You read on Instagram about.
So you pretend to be a fuckgirl,
No feelings sticking out.

The exes really sense it,
You’re with another guy.
Especially, a full moon
Does something real strange,
They start to really feel that.

The exes either come in packs,
Or they don’t come at all.
They see you’re sort of happy,
So it becomes their master plan -
To ******* ruin it all.

They text, they call,
They start remembering
The nicest **** you’ve done.
They try to reach that special spot,
They’ve reached then shattered many times.

But once for all, this time for 'real'
You have decided: "I'm ******* quitting it",
"This time feelings will be nowhere near it".
So you just keep on seeing the *******
You've met on Tinder.

It is already 10 past 12,
I think I fell in love tonight.

But to be honest, I am not too sure…

Quite often I confuse my heart
With feeling lonely at this sort of time.

I still cannot believe 
that you got me convinced
all this **** is somehow related to love.
well, tonight I’m bleaching my heart.

and, of course,
I’ll forget to put on the gloves,
so I’ll blister quite bad.
but as long as it works, I really don’t mind.

as I’ll be scrubbing the pain,
which will take quite a while,
I’ll notice a big warning sign:
“use with caution, it erases it all”.

I’ll stop scrubbing,
tears will start running down.
then I’ll smile and start scrubbing harder,
thinking: “finally, what a great bargain”.

You’ve been told that
This love is the only right kind,
And you think that
He is the right kind of man.
You’ve become a hostage to feelings,
My darling,
You’re too scared to never feel ‘it’ again.

Real love is a two-way thing,
It’s a constant, mutual feeling.
It is not when he feels like drunk dialing you,
And you feel like he’s all that you have.
Love is beautiful but this is not it.
You will meet someone right and will feel it,
I swear.

But for now please, darling,
Let yourself go.
He was never even a real man.

i am the one

the russian ****** girl
who has been calling you
quite often
late
quite often
high

i know it must have felt annoying
i do apologise

but don't you miss
my nonsense calls
sometimes?

You’ve been up every night
Watching soap opera stuff.
You don’t even know
What is that crap about.

You’ve been waiting,
Your phone is on charge,
Just in case it decides
To unexpectedly die.

Please, just go to sleep,
It’s been months of denial.
He won’t call.
You’re no longer his

Drunk
2 am
Dial.

My bed stinks of pizza,
My room is a mess.
I was held hostage
Last night by my ex.

I came to the hotel,
Hoping he’s changed.
Of course, I was wrong,
It was my mistake.

I wanted to leave,
He said: “No, you’ll stay”
I tried to escape,
He got me again.

I screamed: “Let me go!”
He held my wrists tight
And whispered to me:
“You’re staying tonight”.

Through crying I’ve heard
The knock at the door
It opened, I ran.
The cab brought me home.

We always repeat
The same old mistakes.
Please, darling, remember -
The ex’s don’t change.

My bed stinks of pizza,
My room is a mess.
I was held hostage
Last night by my ex.

Let's play hide and seek.
I’ll pretend as if I am not
Into that kind of ****,
As if I am really not
Into relationships,
As if I am as hard as stone,
As if I am far to reach.
Please seek me though.
I’m not as tough as I seem.

It’s actually so toilsome
Pretending I'm a real stone,
I am so much more like ice.
I seem extremely cold
And hard to break.
But really you can smash me
Without trying much,
And you'll feel me melting,
At very slightest touch.

But I’ll pretend I'm not about it,
Stones don't have feelings.
I am here to protect myself
From melting down completely,
I've got to keep pretending
To be a real hard stone,
I don’t belong to people.
Stones don't.
But really all I am thinking:

"Please, seek me, though!"

it’s tough to be the needy one
that wants to be around all the time.

without him,
my life consists of days to count.

he says he counts them too
but then, no way to find out...

he is my biggest source of sanity,
he is my biggest source of crazy too.

my demons really like his sanity.
it is not mutual.

Quit smoking and excessive drinking,
It was supposed to help with healthy thinking.
That day I made it clear to myself
It's also time to quit you.

Gone ******* greens, had spinach, kale daily.
Worked out every other day, I even had a schedule.
On weekly basis: abs, some arms and lots of ***.
My selfie game was on point, I got a tonne DMs.

Until a day I saw you holding hands
And heard you called her 'girlfriend'.
You never called me that in front of your best friends.
It really hurt, I couldn’t stop it.

That day I started smoking cigarettes again
And drinking wine, I had no schedule.
I've made a lot of calls and texts
Quite clearly, I couldn't quit you.

I liked you when you’ve had a ‘few’ tequilas
You’d talk things intimate, it felt as if you mean it.

I really hope you go back to heavy drinking
And start to feel instead of thinking.

It used to be ******* real,
Now you kind of fit in my
Rhymes.

Nothing personal baby,
Just still some leftovers of lust.

It used to be ******* close
To how they describe feeling
‘Love’.

Now you’re nothing,
But the realest ghost of my past.

Keep swiping baby,
All of them.
Keep swiping
Through the ones
You want to have.

Keep swiping baby,
Like you've got no time left.
Keep swiping,
Please
Just like I have.

And when you see my picture
On that app.

You will swipe right.
But I've swiped left.

I always knew you’re simply a love dealer,
At least that’s what you made it feel like.
But finally I've got the strength to quit you,
I am looking for a new supplier.

P.S. Don’t worry, you'll always be my special.
You’ve given me the strongest stuff.

He told me that’s what love is,
That’s what it's all about.

Cancelling plans every night
Just to end up being left out.

Waiting for him to call back,
Crying all night while waiting.

Getting a call at “am”,
Being called over to get “it”.

After left broken in pieces,
Believing, still, that’s what it’s worth.

Being so hurt, yet so grateful
For feeling something at all.

(n.) an utopian concept we desperately strive to achieve but never quite get to reach

used to say: “i can’t live without”
yet for some reason still perfectly breathing

Marinara is my favourite kind of pizza.
I mean, I can’t really have any others...
Yes, I am one of those ‘annoying vegans’
But I also don’t like the non-dairy cheeses.

I used to order the gluten-free version.
So, I guess I am even more annoying.
However, the dough was so dry and weird
I just could never enjoy it.

I’ve tolerated it though for maybe 4 times.
But seriously, it was quite nasty.
So, please, just get the normal Marinara,
Unless you've got celiac disease.

In which case,
I'm sorry,
You gotta have to get the gross pizza.

He calls me 'little princess' and it makes me wonder -

Is it because he sees me as a useless pretty girl or he has finally acknowledged my severe daddy issues?

I see him usually 2 times a week -
He’s got a lot of work.
Or does he?
Nevertheless, it leaves me lots of time
To got to gym  
And maintain that *** he wants.
Which often makes me wonder
Whether I'll see him if I stop to squat
At all.

I’ll destroy every little last bit of you
I’ve collected too scared of losing,
Stashed behind the books that are sort of stupid,
Such as guides to becoming a perfect human.

I’ll throw it out the window while it rains,
The weather has recently been truly perfect.
Perfect for having long-term depressions
And thinking of people that ain’t even worth it.

I’ll, of course, make sure there are no neighbours
They will 100% tell my mom and she’ll make a scene
Screaming: "Are you going ******* crazy?!"
Being more in love with you than I’ve ever been.

But then hopefully a gang of street cats
Will in one way or another disgrace it.
Or perhaps very drunk teenagers will,
I’ve seen quite a few of them around lately.

So I’ll just stand at my balcony staring
At that **** being literally shat on.
Hopefully, it will make me feel better,
Hopefully, I’ll get over it.

you brought to light
the very best of me
but then have killed it  
right on the spot
so now all i am left
to deal with is
my very worst

I wanted to see him in daytime
And do things other than ***.

That’s when I knew for sure,
I should be seeing him less.

in moments like this
remember how you said
you can’t live without him
remember it
in moments like this
because you could
and so you can now

That night it started raining.
It rained for 7 days straight.
The sky cried for me,
So I didn't have to.

You’d ask how many guys I’ve dated,
really wanting to know how many guys I’ve ******
...or have ****** me?

Well, anyway, it doesn’t really matter,
the point is - you're getting into numbers.

I’ll joke about how guys would multiply it
and how girls like doing it the other way around.

You’d say: "Just go ahead, I honestly don’t care."
How cute,
you're terrible at lying.

So I’ll do that, I’ll go ahead, I will divide it.
You'll smile, I will smile back
hoping you bought the number.

I had a haircut, I read it cuts off feelings.
I forced myself to smile, my mama said it heals it.

I met some people who I’ve never ever met ,
My friends ensured me it has to help.

I started drinking stronger liquor,
Tequila was the best, it worked the quickest.

Some time has passed, I thought I am feeling better,
I have moved on and I became independent.

My under eyes stopped needing so much make-up,
And I thought to myself: f*ck, yes! I made it.

Until a day that I received a text:
“New haircut looks great, I need you back.”

A very long one minute later I replied:
“I’ve never left.”

It’s fine, really.
I’ll swallow down
My feelings,
Been holding onto them
Just way too long.
I am tired of waiting
For you to finally
Be ******* ready.
It’s time to move on.
Please never call me,
Don’t text me too.
I’ve learnt my lesson,
The past belongs to past,
And I belong to you.
Just kidding,
It rhymed slightly better.
I don’t, although
I always wanted to.

I've planned on writing
A love poem
But I can't focus.
Since I woke up today
Been feeling extra *****.

I could’ve written on
Something to do with feelings
Or go on about how
Saint Valentine's day
Is not for me because I am single.

But I am feeling way too
*****.
Been thinking really *****
Things
Entire freaking morning.

Is this even a poem?
I am not too sure anymore.
I mean it sort of rhymes.
All I am sure about
Is that i am feeling
Really
*****.

I enjoy feeling scars on my heart,
Scratching old and the very new ones.

My best friend says I’m out of my mind,
As I am sipping on 8th glass of wine.

I’ve just googled, is that “masochism”?
Can we please call it something else?

That’s my hobby, I’m a collector of scars.
I bet you’ve got some really strange ones.

Fine, you win, you're right.
I’ve been hiding remainder feelings
Under my white duvet cover.
Can't believe that it used to be ours.

Kept on telling myself witless lies,
Such as "I've run out of washing liquid".
Kept on smelling what’s left of us in it,
Waiting for one final clearance.