We used to call every few days.
Days turned into weeks.
Then whenever we remembered.
After that, months learned how to disappear.
I miss you
in a life you already moved on from.
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
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@disowneddiary
We used to call every few days.
Days turned into weeks.
Then whenever we remembered.
After that, months learned how to disappear.
I miss you
in a life you already moved on from.
Not the narcissistic mother complaining that you are parenting her, like -girly that was your decision not mine.
Being lonely in a crowd? Great-feels like home anyway.
Itâs my first time living.
Itâs fine if I suck.
I say it to quiet the ache, or maybe to prove I can be kind to myself.
Sure, you gave me a roof. But it never felt like a home.
Maybe Iâm not hard to love, maybe you were just too soft to try.
Doomed Soulmates
Maybe we did something in our last life, and this is the punishment.
Heatwave
It started like every heatwave does- Too hot to move, too restless to stay still.
You looked at me like trouble, And I looked back like Iâd already made the mistake.
Everything felt sweeter in the heat, Your touch was fire, your hands were cheat.
Smelled like citrus and gin, tasted like sin- I knew the risk, and still gave in.
The kind of summer that tastes like Gas station soda, cheap cologne, and maybe love.
We never said forever. We barely said tomorrow.
But damn, we meant it for that one night. And when the storm finally broke;
You kissed me like you knew the heat would end. Like the fire was the point - not the lesson, nor the burn.
The word âheatwaveâ reminded me of Grease - that kind of summer love thatâs too intense to last. What a clever little prompt, thanks to; @wrentalks , @picklemafia
**âThis reminded me of you.â**
That sentence shouldnât mean so much, but it does.
It means I still live somewhere in your head, even when Iâm not trying to. đ€
Maybe the grass is greener
I mean look at us, dancing around our words Like the idiots in love we are. Careful hands, careful sentences, The kind of eye contact That means everything and nothing Depending on whoâs watching. We both know itâs wrong. You ought to know itâs wrong - When it feels so right. Maybe the grass is greener after all this time. Maybe it grew wild, While we looked the other way, Tending someone elseâs garden, Planting roots where we never really belonged. We say weâre just talking. We say weâre just catching up. But my phone lights up and I smile too fast. You say my name like it still fits in your mouth, like you never gave it up. Tell me - Are we crossing lines, Or just pretending they donât exist? Because we havenât stopped thinking about it? I mean look at us. Still orbiting. Still pretending the gravityâs a coincidence.
Billions of years, infinite chances to miss - and we still crossed paths. That has to mean something.
Dead Signal
Hey mom, I think I might go back to school. Hey dad, I applied to college. Hey mom, I got into college! Hey dad, I graduated!! Hey mom, I got the job!!! Oh - right. I know you donât know. Maybe youâll see it on my socials, When my friends congratulate me. Or maybe you wonât. I know youâre busy with your new family.
No One Ever Told Me
No one ever told me, that healing would look like silence, like walking away without a door slam, like deleting the number and not saving a new one. No one ever warned me, how grief can look like scrolling past your photo, but still pausing for just long enough to remember the version of you I used to believe in.
People keep telling me Iâm strong. I keep pretending I agree. I eat my pride with a plastic spoon, and call that dinner. Iâm not bitter. Iâm just full of things I wasnât allowed to say at the time they were happening. If you ask me how Iâm doing, Iâll tell you Iâm tired. Thatâs the polite version of "Please donât leave, but also donât get too close." Iâve learned to be fine in lowercase. Because uppercase always asked for attention no one had to give. So Iâm quiet. And healing. And angry. And fine. All at once. Thatâs the truth. And I finally know how to say it.
25th
Today is my birthday, did you remember? If I count the years by who didnât show up, Iâm older than time. Thank you for the text reminder, How thoughtful of you.. Although a call wouldâve been nicer. Wouldnât dare ask for a coffee date - Even this day, the one with my name on it, Still couldnât make it onto your calendar. Itâs like clockwork â the hope, then the letdown, And still, some part of me hoped you'd show up. I hate birthdays. Because I never felt celebrated, Because the cake never tasted like home, that was of my own. Someone else always picked the flavor, Someone else always blew out the candles first. Now I donât even like cakes, or birthdays, I trained myself out of wanting them. It's safer that way. But sure, you texting me is fine. Happy 25th to me, myself & I.
And if by the end, i have learned nothing, was the journey even worth it?
Why I hate kids.
I say I hate kids. I hate how they trust, How they love without question, How they look up to people who never earned it. But maybe I donât. Maybe I hate how loud they are- Because no one ever heard me. Maybe I hate how needy they are- Because I needed too much. Maybe I hate what I see in them: A reflection of what I never got. Maybe Iâm just afraid Iâll end up like you. But Itâs easier to say, That I Hate Kids.
Love always felt more like a theory or a concept than a feeling to me. Sure, Lust jumpstarts the process- but it fades, eventually. And then what's left? Two people, A team, Working toward something, together. But Lust... Even as it fades, it still tries to win. And when it does, it ruins teams. Please tell me we're in this 'til the endgame.