Qynn 2d

I will never be the loved one.

I will never know the mirroring
of the love, affection, attention
that I so willingly give unto others.

I will never know what it is like
to be treated like a queen
to be sung to every day
to be pampered and cared for
to be lusted after
to be wanted.

I will never know devotion.

I will never know what it is like
to trust blindly
the knowledge that to you,
I am enough.
I am beautiful.
I am perfect.
I am loved.

I will never be the loved one.

Qynn 4d

Once upon a time
there was a girl
and how happy and swollen
her heart was in love.

a drunken disaster
of honeymoon blindness.

the satisfaction
of dreams come true
eyes always shut
waiting for the next kiss.

somewhere in time
she came into bloom.

the color drained
from her precious petals,
reality sunk into her.

heavy iron anchors.

search history of
"loneliness in love"
"surviving cheating"
"painless suicide methods"

the only strength remaining
learning how to cope
writing needlessly.

hungry, forlorn
the words make little sense
even ninety days later.

Qynn 5d

I'm afraid that I am starting to look my age because I am no longer carded when I walk up to the bar. I think the permanent wrinkle in my brow may be telling - the creases in my forehead are also unkind to my youth.

Whatever youth is left in this body, a breadbasket of stress.

Of course, drinking does nothing to help preserve whatever visage it is that I am so greedily clinging to.

And oh god, what an awful thing it is to be twenty three. How desperately far away it is from nineteen, bright and burning.

Qynn 5d

The only consistency that remains
in this life that I did not ask for
is the utter annoyance I suffer
amidst others
and the crushing loneliness I feel

How wretched.

Qynn 7d

I listen to the voices of other men.

They tell me that I am a goddess,
worthy of all the love and lust in the world.

I listen to the music of their voices on repeat
artificial, prerecorded sweetness and affection.
Adoration and attention.
Sometimes dusted with lust.

Words that no longer come
from my own lover's lips.

Qynn 7d

I no longer know
how to respond
to the messages you send me

I will tell you
that I love you as well
but when faced with casual chat
I freeze up
as if you're a stranger
asking me for a date

the words used to come to me
so freely, so easily
and now they are as sparse, as rare
as the emeralds in your eye sockets
distant, but there.

Qynn Sep 14

i am his moon,
though he will never say.

i lit his way through the dark.
he was never without the promise of home.

he is my sun.

five hundred and sixty days
without sunscreen.
my flesh is burnt beyond recognition.

Next page