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I am saying the house is on fire I watch the flames burn I sat and I stared and I envied the way the flames knew how to turn to smoke and then disappear I am saying the house is on fire there is no simmer only blaze boil rage I am saying the house is on fire and all I know how to do is write words against fading walls

(h.f)

Month 1,2- sadness, regret, fear Don't rush it. Sit inside your room with blankets and emptiness as your fortress. Let yourself cry more than puddles. Water your vines, your leaves with rainstorms and monsoons because it's hard to carry on when the sun has left you on your own. It's okay to wash yourself away. Hold his sweatshirt for hours, for days for as long as you wish you held him. Mold yourself into every memory where his scent was absent, rewind it and make yourself chase after him rather than your ego. It's okay to regret things. Let yourself shut down. Make a home out of strangers and let them be your drug, your safe ground. Lock the doors and close the windows because sometimes love and comfort feel like caution signs instead of welcome mats. It's okay to fear what hurt you. Month 3,4- anger, change, fear Don't drink water when your throat burns. That is the left over words meant for him that never surfaced. The burning will spark a fire. And you'll pour them out as the fire blazes and each flame will fuel your hate. Because broken was not on the forefront of what you intended to be. It's okay to hate what made you. Your skin will turn to wrinkles as you try to scrape the remains off of you. Hoping water and dirt won't be the only thing circling down the drain. You will throw out every dress he said you looked pretty in and wear pants in spite. You might cut your hair because he loved it long and pierce your ears because diamonds never were his thing. Because you, this version of you, will never be touched by him. It's okay to take comfort in that. You will fill yourself up with darkness around the men who seem to see through you and only turn the lights back on when you find the boys who haven't learned the secret that love tastes more delicious than desire. It's okay to fear what hurts you. Month 5, infinity- hesitancy, self discovery, fear Open up, even if it's just a crack. Your home is screaming for some light and your fingers are itching to unlock the door. Your heart is thumping down the staircase and your shaky veins are twirling around the balcony begging for a chance to try this again. It's okay to be hesitant. Allow yourself to be passionate about things again. Doodle into your notebook until they become art work upon your wall. Hum in your car until you can belt the lyrics in your shower again. Think in the shadows of your thoughts until they become words across a page. It's okay to to find yourself again. Don't hide your face behind your hair or hands. Don't jump out of your skin, you are a sanctuary of scars that has made a masterpiece of chaotic beauty. You do not need a man to validate your worth. You are a woman, and that is enough assurance and weaponry to take on the world. It is okay to fear your potential. It is okay to handle loss in whatever way you see fit. Just don't linger too long, the past deserves solace, but it does not deserve you. (h.f)

Advice for the broken hearted

You stabbed me a million times and then got mad when my blood stained your clothes. (h.f)

12:27

I tried!“ She exclaimed. Her hair framed her face in tangles of auburn curls as her fiery green eyes set me on fire. "God I tried” she continued, “I tried so god damn hard to make you love me. I would’ve sat in that coffee shop for days if it meant you would smell the bitter sweet taste and think of me. I must’ve knocked on your door everyday for the past six months just hoping you’d open up and let me in. But instead you’d turn off your porch light and let your mother answer and I’d let her comfort me because she was the closest I could get to you. And after awhile winter came and nights became too cold to try and wait for you to feel something. So I’m sorry if I was too hard to love but don’t ever say I never tried. All I ever fucking did was try. You were just too wrapped up in yourself to notice.

Excerpt from a book I’ll never write #101

My biggest mistake was letting someone with dirty hands touch my soul. (h.f)

You didn’t deserve it, you didn’t deserve me.

Were you coming to see me the night you crashed your car? Because the broken vodka bottle and white roses were screaming my name. And I know I messed with your mind, I know those flowers were meant for the funeral of our broken hearts but I can't tell anymore what is my fault and what remains yours. I just feel like I've been bleeding from your broken pieces for too long and I'm ready to move on. So don't hide out in the hospital when your ruptured bones have healed. Don't dig your grave where the flowers are trying to grow. (h.f)

return to sender

I ran out of poetic ways to say how much I miss you. I really fucking miss you. (h.f)

Please come home

They say to love yourself before anyone else, but I only had enough for one and you deserved it a hell of a lot more than I did. (h.f)

Choices

I got so comfortable in the pain you caused me that when you left I started destroying myself because it was the only thing left to hold onto. (h.f)

You ruined me

I'm done being another fish in your fucking ocean when I deserve to be the waves that make your waters stir. (h.f)

12:21

I used to think I was on top of the world with you. The way you looked at me like nothing else matter and all the times you took my breath away. The small kisses and flowers you gave me, I fell so fast that I let the love consume me. But soon your facade started to crumble and I realized you weren’t looking at me but through me, I was never your world just the rain that made it grow. And maybe I didn’t lose my breath from you but because of you, because my mind misplaced the nights when we screamed so loud I swear the stars shook. It’s scary how much you can forget when love consumes you. Because you may have kissed me gently but it was only to cover the bruises you caused me and the flowers you gave me always had too many thorns. By the time you left I finally realized that we were never on top of the world together, because I always seemed to be under it and you loved to watch me suffer as you buried me in it. (h.f)

It’s scary how much you can believe when love consumes you

You and I were a drizzle. We were nothing more than a sad excuse for rain. (h.f)

4:15

I'm sorry for the way things are. I'm sorry I didn't love you the way I should have because I was still trying to love myself and I didn't have enough for the both of us. I'm sorry I ignored your whispers that always blended into the the chills that haunted every room I walked in. I still wonder what words you used to use to show me love. I'm sorry that movie nights turned into silence. That I chose emptiness to turn to instead of you. That my tongue was always in too many knots and I never knew how to untie them. I'm sorry for staying awake till 2 am. Letting the thoughts consume my heart until I couldn't tell which was which anymore. I'm sorry for letting overthinking win. I'm sorry for the way we ended, I'm sorry for being so numb, being so blind that I forgot you had feelings and a past too and maybe you were finding yourself between the pockets of darkness you vanish in too. And god I'm sorry that there's so much to be sorry for. I'm sorry we can't talk like we use to and I'm sorry your heart's guarded and my name taste like the alcohol you use to drink to wash my name away. I'm sorry that my insecurities ate so much of me that I couldn't give you the love you deserved (h.f)

I still miss you, even if you don’t miss me

You are a sea of potential, drowning in your own waters. (h.f)

11:49

Why do we always think we'll find our happiness in the people who took it away in the first place? (h.f)

10:52- I'm sick of feeling sad

"It's better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all" I have finally understood the quote that people have yelled to their hearts at 2 am as they struggle with the pain of being lost in a maze of their own broken pieces. But they are right, they are right to love, even with only fear holding their hearts together. They are right to love unguarded no matter how broken or hurt they have been. Because for some of us we are left with choosing which bottle to drink that night: emptiness or loneliness. Either way they burn as they hit your throat and numbness swallows you when it comes back up because for us we are left with an unknown longing as we reread fiction novels and keep every damn tv on mute, torturing ourselves as we watch actors and authors play out an emotion we have not felt. And we are the outsiders, the drunks the guarded to the ones who have loved. We lay awake missing a touch we've never felt and wondering why we aren't good enough to feel the pain. Because scraped knees and a couple bruises aren't good enough for us. Because love may hurt and it may suck but it's better than crying over the body you hate and not even having a small piece of someone once saying they loved your bad parts, because no one has even tried to love the good parts. (h.f)

Longing for things I don't know

I hate you for making me change all my favorite songs because now their all tainted with your voice singing back every word to me. I hate you for making me late to work most days because I can’t handle walking past our special spot down the street from my house, I can still see the outline of your feet mingling with the concrete. I hate you for touching me in all the right places because your finger prints still walk across my skin every night, torturing me in knowing that no one’s hands are going to feel the same. I hate you for making me cry because the emptiness hurts and I never knew that pain could make your insides shake or that loneliness could eat at you until your nothing but what he left of you. I hate you for having a face I can’t forget because I’ve drank 2 whole bottles and while my visions blurred your face is all I see and every boy looks a little like you and not at all and I don’t know what’s worse having something almost like you or not at all. I hate you for loving me the way you did, because while it wasn’t healthy or stable it was the closest I’ve ever felt to being whole. And you might never read this but when you looked at me late at night my breath would catch in my throat with how raw you looked but your gone and now it seems I can’t breathe at all. But God the thing I hate the most about you is that I know I don’t hate you, I’m just drunk on the side of the road yelling at blurred faces who aren’t you hoping that you might hear me one day (h.f)

11:30 pm- I cried writing this, you jerk

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