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You asked me to write
You a poem and I
said I only write
About those who
Break my heart.
You just laughed,
But what you don’t realize
Is that you’ve already
Broken me beyond repair.
I fell in love with someone
Who isn’t capable
Of loving me back
Because she doesn’t
“Think of girls like that,”
So I’ll just have to accept that
Friends is all we will ever be.
Katie, this one is for you. (via mistakenharmony)

wordstumbling:

Look into the eyes of the child
For finding pathways into imagination
We forgot how to listen to the stars
And now this thundering threat
Is the absence of such grace
Beginning to place
my hand upon
The clouds and breathe
And beginning to rise to meet
Each day light’s peak
Where demons used to frighten me
I’m dancing unabashedly
Where the water was drowning
Is my learning to swim
And sea is the blood
Running through me

If love post-mortems exist, then you won’t even need to dissect my heart to see what’s wrong. Just look at my hands.

See me trying. Because when my palms shake like the land when tectonic plates ride over each other, realise I’m teaching myself how to hold all the planets in my solar system together on my own. If you see my fingers like clams always pressed tightly into a fist, know that it’s my way of trying to forget what it’s like to have someone else’s fingers take up the extra spaces between them.

And though I swear to everyone that I am learning how to stop missing you by unlearning how I loved you first, every time it’s still you I go back to.

astagesetforcatastrophe, if love post-mortems exist (via astagesetforcatastrophe)

1) I cut off all my hair because I’ve been looking for ways to forget you, but none of them seem to work. I go to put a curl behind my ear like you’d always do, and then I pull back because change is what keeps us moving forward

2) I saw the world through a whole different perspective when I was in your arms, now that you’re gone I can see galaxies

3) I cried, I screamed, I choked on all the things I wish I’d said, but I did not call you because I am a person without you, I am still whole

4) I replaced your lips with hers at a party one night and god she tasted so sweet, but then I felt your name creep up my throat and I had to down six shots of whiskey just to feel sane. I took another six shots of vodka when I remembered whiskey was your favorite drink

5) I started to take walks in the rain and it felt so peaceful to know that I am the only one who has control of my life, you can’t hurt me anymore

6) when you left I started to live

when you left by a.j.g (via fuckingwaves)
I am not a hurricane or a
sandstorm when I leave.
Losing me will probably
not even feel like losing
at all; more like a gentle
absence or watching a
dried-out autumn leaf go
floating off in the breeze.
I’m just not the type of
person that people tend
to go down fighting for.
So it didn’t surprise me
when you talked about
leaving as if it were no
big deal to you, in fact,
it made more sense to
me than any of the times
you’d ever told me you
were going to stay. I’m
familiar with goodbyes,
so when yours fell from
between your lips that
night, it shouldn’t have
hit me like a punch in
the gut. It should not
have left this large of
a hole in my willingness
to exist. But it did, oh my
God, it did. Don’t ever
fall victim to the belief
that expecting the worst
will make it hurt less. It
still hurts to be left. The
first time, the third time,
the seventeenth time. It’s
still going to hurt like hell.
no matter what i do, i still can’t bear goodbyes gracefully, j.f. (metaphorsandmadness)

Why does it not feel the same anymore?
The roses you grew
Lie dead on the floor.

I watered and sunned them
But you sat aside
You let me feel lonesome
Without you by my side.

As you stayed away
I watched the roses fade.
No effort, no input
That’s all it would have took
To make our flowers stay.

I put all the effort into the relationship. (my goodbye note) - Leah Hobson-White (via pennedvoices)
one day
i will be a story you tell the next person who falls in love with you
my name will come up in conversation
when he stumbles across the poetry
i wrote about you that you kept hidden in your closet.
he will ask you about me and
you will tell him that i had loved you more than i really should have
and you will tell him that we
‘hooked up’
instead of
‘made love’
and when he asks if you still think about me
you will say ‘i don’t know.
i dont think
i ever
did.’
a series of things i wish weren’t true at all #1 // by rb (via rbcages)
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