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I wanted it to be you
I wanted it to be you so badly
but I am not Alice
and this is not my wonderland

j.f
~ i dont know really.
 Apr 2014 dmitri a danailov
pam
suicide
anxiety
anorexia
misery
depression
loneliness
hopelessnes­s
cuts
they are a serious matter
a serious thing
serious stuff.
serious serious serious
people die because of those stuff
why make fun of it?
why lie about it?
why act like you have it?
why brag about it?
why call it stupidity?
why act like you're one of them?
why act, why pretend?

You're lying to us.. to me..
and most of all
to yourself..


*well, welcome me to your world of lies..
not the lies that you're happy.
but the lies in where you act like you're full of misery...
this is for the girls and boys who acts like theyre suicidal and stuff just to fit in.
I hate you because I love you.
I hate you because you left me.
I hate you because now I have no one
to hold my wrists and tell me not to.
I hate you because there's no one
I trust half as much as I trust you.
I hate you because you walked away
without thinking about the mess you
were leaving.
I hate you because you forbade me
to cut and you made me promise not to.
I hate you because you took my two
sources of relief - yourself and cutting.
Did you realise you were ruining me?
Do you know I have nothing now?
I hate you but I love you
and I wish I could break promises
like you do.
let's hold hands,
our fingers entangled,
your sweaty palm
pressed against mine.
let's sit on the steps,
your jacket wrapped
around my shoulders,
while i read aloud.
let's walk down
the streets,
casually pushing
each other
with laughter at the tip
of our tongues.
let's drink coffee
from paper cups
with milk and too
much sugar.
let's feed each other
pizza and lick
each other's fingers
afterwards.
let's cuddle
under tons of blankets,
our limbs a tangled mess,
humming a song
hoarsely and off-key.
let's watch a really
terrible movie
and then
a really great one.
let's tickle each other
breathless
and then lie
on the floor,
tummies aching with
laughter.
let's spoon on the
couch, your nose
nuzzled in my neck.
let's read poetry to
each other and
then
make out,
finishing each other's lines
between the kisses.
let's watch the stars
and kiss hungrily
under the night sky.
let's waltz to
alternative rock
and **** to
heavy metal.
let's get drunk on
a Tuesday,
let's cook breakfast
and dinner
and lunch.
let's sleep through
the entire Sunday.
let's hold each other
while we cry.
let's go the woods,
let's climb a mountain.
let's live
and
laugh
and
love.
If I walked up to you and
asked if you were happy
and you said no
and I asked you
what would make you happy
again
would you reply
us?

but I guess
shooting stars were made
for better wishes
than the fixing
of my shattered
heart.
don’t call me pretty
don’t call me sweet
i won’t be flattered –
it’s not what i need;
don’t call me beautiful
don’t call me hot
i won’t be flattered –
i know i’m not;
but then so what
it isn’t like I give a
****.
beautiful won’t draw the stars
upon the night sky,
pretty won’t write you a poem
twenty lines long,
slam and bitter-sweet,
beautiful won’t inspire
another soul to love me,
pretty won’t immortalise
my swift and shining mind,
beautiful won’t taste like
coffee and cigarettes
when i kiss you on the
mouth,
pretty won’t make you
laugh with a coarse voice
at 3 a.m.
under the stars,
beautiful won’t make you
stay awake till dawn
reciting frost, then plath
and then bukowski,
pretty won’t make you
crave for my
mysteriously gentle touch,
beautiful won’t make
my absence sting and
leave a burning scar,
pretty won’t feed you
with homemade crusty
cake glazed with chocolate
and raspberries,
beautiful won’t make your
body ache when you
wake up and don’t find me
in bed,
pretty won’t make your
head hurt with all the
existential questions
i ask before i’ve even started
to drink,
beautiful won’t cuddle you
under the sound of
heavy metal screams,
pretty won’t soothe you
when you need to cry,
beautiful won’t dance with you
with no music,
pretty won’t hold your hand
like i will though it’s
december and i have no
mittens,
beautiful won’t win
wars for you,
pretty won’t stay up all
night long to marathon
lord of the rings with you
and then maybe star wars
and then read some marvel,
and then make up
asoiaf theories,
beautiful will steal a glance,
but I will steal your mind.
hot might earn you a body,
with other words
you will enter my heart.
pretty might be enough
for a one-night stand,
but i can make you
be hopelessly,
tiredly,
desperately
in love.
dedicated to Lauren Wycoff for inspiring me.  go and read her stuff now, she's fantastic
to me, you and i
rhymes really well
with **a l i v e
giving the 10-word thingie a try
you made me promise
that i'd never cut.
then why the hell
did you inscribe
your name
your smile
your heart
all over my arms
in thin fragile lines
flowing with blood

you make me want to
cry
and
drink
and
cut
and
die
dedicated to him
Winter moves by slowly.
I wrap myself in your stanzas.
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