av

i look in people’s windows, transfixed by rose-golden glows— what if your eyes looked up at mine one last time?

[spiritslyrics]

sad, pathetic girl, waiting for an answer

a cure for self-induced disease

some magic moment where the curtains rise

and everyone is clapping,

congratulations,

you did it on your own

so she stands in pitch black, center stage

holds for the cue that never comes

one woman show, drama or comedy or

tragedy or all of the above

ugly, problematic girl with feelings to match

feels so much, like water overflowing a vessel,

no feelings at all, nothing really in the glass

the temptation of taking that glass and

throwing it off the highest ledge

being - all at once -

the water, the vessel, and the highest ledge

complexity that isn’t beautiful

just confusing

inside joke

every door and window locked

every light and sound off

no pictures to put face-down

no line to call from

or for

even if she wanted

[spiritslyrics]

this is not a happy poem

midnight— full moon— cliff's edge—

i am radiant in this moment

because you allow me to be.

blissfully ignorant

girl with an affinity

for the twilight and

an aversion

to the turning page.

you are promised

every time i blink.

i'll hold my eyes open

and the day will never break.

i will never know

life without your gravity

(i could never survive

outside your line of sight)

there is no me

if there is no you

tides receded,

never returned.

girl marooned

staring straight down.

[wedarkacademia]

- Evelyn Waugh, from Brideshead Revisited (1945)

[spiritslyrics]

the first year

this year, 

february’s calendar page

goes unmarked, collects dust,

with no dates highlighted and

no request for time off

for any holiday

            birthday

            anniversary

but as the days pass, the sun

takes longer to set

and, just like wintertime,

your memory lingers

in every evening blush.

the shortest month, it drags

and, for some reason, I

dig my heels into the ground.

now, time

pushes me forward against my will.

sundays are no longer

grocery store days, farmer’s market days,

in-n-out in parking lot, netflix

                                    through bluetooth

                                    on phone

                                    on dashboard

days

it is just the first day, the last day,

the reset, the resume.

businesses close their doors early

and I am asleep before them.

letting go used to be

a children’s game;

the count to ten, still

running out of sight, still

looking for a hiding place,

no moment to catch a breath.

now, it’s

fighting off inevitable sleep,

half-awake on the freeway

                             in a rideshare,

                             in a new town,

                             in an old sweater,

backseat,

capturing glimpses of views

through a tinted window,

wishing I could stop for every

eye-catching reminder of

the life we once shared.

memories fade, even when I resist.

the car keeps driving.

ready or not,

three, two, one.

[minuty]

The past beats inside me like a second heart.

(via naturaekos)

[spiritslyrics]

“tomorrow is a different day. and I hope I wake up with no recollection of the dreams I had the night before. I hope I brush my hair and drive to work, and don’t hear a single song on the radio that reminds me of us. tomorrow, I will be kissed ‘good morning’ and kissed ‘I love you’ and kissed 'you’re beautiful’ and none of it will be from you, and that is okay. if tomorrow, or the next day, or months from now, someone does the same to you— some day, I will be okay with that, too.”

— one-way, a.v.

[theyslayedthedragon]

step one: you piece together a string of words, that could be mistaken as a sentence. you bite your lip and try to speak, while air flows out like a ceiling fan in july. speechless, you sit, while the words conjure up inside you, pushing your stomach to the edge. step two: you try again, with roses in hand and your smile in your pocket, you look into the eyes of the girl you’ve known for years and beg them to let you speak. momentarily, you start to speak, but soon the words fade from comprehensible to catastrophic. step three: you build the courage, to hold her in your arms. the safest you’ve ever felt. it is just you, her and the atmosphere as time stands still. she is agony without the heartbreak. she is love without the worry. she is home. and you pour your heart into her eardrums. step four: you let her know, she’s the star of the show with no opening act. she’s an acoustic guitar, a rug and a stool. she’s a silent auditorium, and i am the applause. she is a show, and she is always worth the price of admission. step five: you build yourself up to say those three words. you turn to her, you pull her close and you say with fading breath, i lov– and shutter awake.

lucid dreaming and a teardrop from above (via theyslayedthedragon)

[spiritslyrics]

all I know is: there’s an alternate universe out there, somewhere, where I never loved you in this way. where I only know your name through a friend of a friend, where I might have seen you once— maybe it was twice— at some weekend kickback, or on a tuesday afternoon passing by your part of town. and in that universe, we must have said hello and I would have fallen for those eyes of yours, but only for that moment, and not another moment more, and we could both sleep not knowing what it’s like to love someone who should have been yours.

alternate universe #81723, a.v.

[passivevoices-blog]

1. you were young and it started soft, whispered love songs and stolen moments behind stacked books — barely sixteen but so sure that this was love. his lips, like sugar, your lips, like honey, too sweet and too raw but beautiful just the same. he held you like something important, and for a moment, with him, you thought maybe you were. 2. you were young and it fell apart rough, raw, heart shattered like glass when he kissed you goodbye — barely seventeen but so sure that there was no getting over this. his hands, cold, your hands, shaking, everything too red and too real. he left like it was easy, left you shaking apart and all alone, left like he had never really been there to begin with. 3. you weren’t young and it was so far from soft, all teeth and skin and longing. his mouth, hot, your mouth, pliable, waiting and ready for anything he was willing to give. and it wasn’t much, but you didn’t care, soaked him up, greedy and sure, because this time you knew it wasn’t going to last, but you fell just the same. 4. you weren’t young but it was still rough, when it ended. and you’d thought you were prepared, thought knowing it was over before it began might make it easy but god, it’d never been easy with him. his heart, still, your heart, broken, too tired and too numb to do anything more than sit, bottle clutched too tight against your chest. and you loved him, still love him, but love is not enough, sometimes, and you should have known better.

to love and to lose | mmc  (via passivevoices)

[passivevoices-blog]

(i.) i am haunting a body that doesn’t believe in ghosts.  there is nothing warm in living this way. (ii.) is it really living at all, if the only thing you can feel are your hands shaking? (iii.) i don’t know what happy is, but they tell me i look it and maybe that’s the closest i’ll ever get.  (iv.) stop crying. stop crying. stop crying.  (v.) is heaven real? is hell real? is recovery real? (vii.)  i am bleeding and i think it’s supposed to hurt but it doesn’t and i’m not quite sure what to do about that. (vii.) i think i am going to collapse one day. i think i might like it when i do. (viii.) “what’s wrong with you?” (ix.) what’s wrong with me?

day one; mmc. (via passivevoices)

[spiritslyrics]

your cheeks like peaches, my hands like summertime waiting to hold you— I’ve never tasted a June as sweet as your bottom lip.

day one: nectar, a.v.

[spiritslyrics]

tomorrow is a different day. and I hope I wake up with no recollection of the dreams I had the night before. I hope I brush my hair and drive to work, and don’t hear a single song on the radio that reminds me of us. tomorrow, I will be kissed ‘good morning’ and kissed 'I love you’ and kissed 'you’re beautiful’ and none of it will be from you, and that is okay. if tomorrow, or the next day, or months from now, someone does the same to you— some day, I will be okay with that, too.

one-way, a.v.

[spiritslyrics]

a.v., I don’t exactly know what I mean by that, but I mean it. // 30 day poetry challenge (day 28)

[gossamerwishes]

It’s easy to say you saw the end coming, even if you didn’t. Maybe you are less of a poet (or a prophet) and more of an out-right liar. You spin stories of night like the day never existed at all, when really That sky line in the sunrise had your heart alive again for the first time in a long time, but see– If you said that again, it would sound fake in your own ears, Conch shell mimicking a tide. You have a tendency to make happy poetry like a straight line With a ruler– something everyone else can do.

from “Sestina on my Note to Self Stationary” (jnt)

[naturaekos]

When you have a broken heart, the first thing a stranger will ask is ‘how long were you two together?’ As if your pain can be determined by how long you were with someone. Or if you were with them at all. I don’t think that’s how it works. I think unrequited love is just as valid as any other kind. It’s just as crushing and just as thrilling.

Taylor Swift (via naturaekos)

[thelovejournals]

You want to know how I got these scars? I ripped every last piece of you out of my smile.

Rudy Francisco (via wnq-writers)

[thequotejournals]

I’m always soft for you, that’s the problem. You could come knocking on my door five years from now and I would open my arms wider and say ‘come here, it’s been too long, it felt like home with you.

Azra.T “My Heart is Full of Open Windows” (via thequotejournals)