Sudden– like stale cigarettes and pale girls that didn’t know how to love so they pick guys that’ll help the days go by. Cold– airy like your breath, but we never got to kiss, I can still feel my fingers trace your spine, another letter about not being able to call you mine, baby, I love you just isn’t enough and it’s no longer true, but the truth is some dead part of me is still fucking in love with you and we’ve changed. Stitches– words still tremble through my voice, I can’t look at myself and I hate myself, secrets etched into my skull. I think about every night, but you’ll never know. Fuck the metaphors, I’ll just live a little. Fuck the time, when you’re living in your prime– life is such a strange event. How many days will fly by as I’m missing you tonight? Stretch– like the way you held my gaze for longer than a second, I love this month, I hate this month, I love you much, I hate you much, I hate myself, still learning how to love myself. Trust– you tore through my heart first, it’s only right that I do the fucking same. An eye for an eye and love is truly blinding. I hate you to the point of exhaustion, I just want it to go away. I love you to the point of nonexistence, no wonder I miss you when I’m sinking into my depression. Oceans– you used to hold my thoughts into a bag, asthma attacks will decaying lungs, it’s the only way that I know how to love. Kiss me until it hurts or don’t kiss me at all. Sex– summer dresses and moonlight sonatas, fucking until the sun finishes its love letters to the moon. The myth is a lie. The moon doesn’t only show up during the night. You’re just not paying attention to the little details that is us. And we’ve changed. Flimsy– paper heart of mine, like you ran into my hands and didn’t want to let go, origami soul with a hint of watercolor tears– shit, I can still hear your voice when the rain whispers lightning and thunder into the middle of December and I’ll die a lonely death some day, we came into this world naked and alone, crying those sad little tears won’t get us anywhere. Reprieve– like the love that we had wasn’t enough, so we had to look for it somewhere else. Love– like it was supposed to end, like you knew it was going to end, and like how it ended– I wanted a happy ending, but I’ll take a sad tale that doesn’t have a princess. I’ll take the champion with his steel sword and fire proof shield melted into his flesh. At least he died for something. At least he didn’t hold his breath when he said that he loved you. Not like how I could. No, never that. Poetry– I don’t need this, I just want the depth. Prose– keep it into my palms, one love letter at a time, one broken heart lost in the sands of time. Fuck– my favorite word.
janainaart
andulkaphoto
vaporwave
germansingergirl
prguitarman
