You can tell so much about a person by the way they leave you
(via 1980vibes)
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@47thsthazy
You can tell so much about a person by the way they leave you
(via 1980vibes)
Yeah, right.
Listen, YOU got rid of ME. You said you were sick of me. Sick of me "getting into your head." "Sick of the lies." Don't even with me right now. You said the second you found someone you'd tag me in it. Good luck. I'd be happy for you, he's probably better than I was. I don't deserve you. She makes me forget why it hurts. I don't think about you because I force myself not to, and shes a distraction for me. Your best friend threatened me AND her. Where the hell do either of you get the gall? Don't touch her or me, you'll regret it. How can you say you miss or love me at all when nothing you've done recently shows me that. You pushed me away. You blocked me. Cut me off. Where am I supposed to find pity for you.
Please.
I hear you're going out. Maybe you already are. I don't know. Whatever. Just remember how here I am. Please be safe. Please remember what i'm fighting here for. Please know that I don't care what you do. As long as it isn't someone else. You said you didn't want anything like what happened to happen. Don't do it again to me. Please know I care about you and want the best for you. Please.
I think too much and now I cry...again.
Its hard to believe its only been six days since I lay with you at that park in the early hours of the morning. Learning about eachother, becoming one. I don't even know how many times the words, "I love you." crossed my mind. Our heavy breathing and frantic hands as we urged eachother to discover more about who we were. But... I already knew you so well. From memory, I could trace every curve you have. I miss your soft sighs as you called my name. I weep at the fact that I may never hear it again. Not seeing you, not having you, not talking to you, it used to feel like a sickness, like poison in my veins and fire in my core. It still feels that way, but now it is worse. Now it is a constant nightmare not being in your life. And I weep. I shed tear after tear after tear because no matter how many times I say its okay, that you don't have to apologize, you remain as distant as ever. So as I sit here, in a dark corner of my room, clutching the only things of yours I have left in my hands, knees drawn up as though I am afraid to fall apart, I can only think one thing. Come back to me.
Just.
Just talk to me. Just be there. And I will too. Just.
With your way fare shades, you drive me insane. I wanna hold hands and call you pet names.
Childish Gambino's "Got This Money"
Last One For A Few Hours
Fuck the poetry for a moment. Let me just talk. Speaking is art. I'm a hopeless romantic. I have so many ideas in my head about how I want my love life to be. But I don't expect any of them to happen. Just recently, I was torn down beyond recognition. I am raw soul at this point. And honestly? It feels nice. I can finally be open and honest and not care that i'd be judged for it. I love you. I fucking love you. I adore you. From your fading dyed hair to your sweet, tiny feet. I love to see you sleep, I love to see your eyes open. I admire the way that your smile can light up the room. I am astounded that people don't throw themselves at your feet. I made promises. I know. I broke them. And I was punished for that. Severely. I was ripped apart for it. And thas okay. I deserved it. And i'm so ready to believe you now. To trust you. If only you would trust me. My arms are open, wide open. Hearing you say you love me...its difficult. Because I believe you. But I also just want to understand why you crushed me. This is no longer about whether I believe you or not. Just something I want to understand. Because the only thing I want right now is you in my arms, hands in mine. I want your head buried in my chest, listening to my heart race as I murmur the things I love about you into your ear. I want to fall asleep knowing that you feel like I do. That you hope one morning you can wake up and look at your hand to see a wedding band and hear the sound of your raucous children running down the hall to get us out of bed. I just need you to talk to me. Talk to me, because I have chased you for four years. And I will always want you. If only you will take me.
I know you see what I put up. And i’m sorry. I’m cruel. But honest. Just like you wanted me to be. God, i’m so fucking sorry. I can’t stop beating myself up about all this. And I can’t let go. It would be so much easier if you yelled at me. If you were angry. But you can’t seem to find the strength for that. Me neither. Because being mad at you is worse than hurting myself. Fuck me, i’m sorry…
These rings were a part of me. Its sad to see the hospital lost them when I got discharged. I cried for hours. Because its feels like she really is leaving. And its all slipping away from me.
That knife has known my skin, my blood. And that journal holds my darkest thoughts. This picture is me.
Insta:@biondasantos
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