#j wolff

[betweenparisandphoenix]

the thing about addicts is that they’ll blame anything else but the drugs I know because my mother used to show up with new bruises every week and say she started it because my friend refuses to eat even if she’s starving because it’s been four years and thirty nine guys and if you showed up at my door at 2 in the morning I’d still let you in I’m sorry that isn’t enough to make you take the razor away from your skin when you blame yourself for someone else’s sin even now I’m not quite sure why you were such addictive heroin and everyone else’s just plain cheap beer though I know this love might end up killing me I still want it in my system I still want you in my veins

just like you can't be an ex-alcoholic, loving you requires a lot of strenght to remain sober

[betweenparisandphoenix]

It was a tuesday night when the gun powder left its scent all over your room I wonder how many times did you put it down before painting the walls with your blood before decorating the floor with a punctured skull probably as many times as I thought of calling you

[betweenparisandphoenix]

eleven months and twenty one days after you stopped answering my texts I was probably by my eight cigarette and the stranger in my bed asked me "why do you smoke so much so fast?" and suddenly I was hit by one of those times when you don't really have an answer I guess I just had a lot of things I wanted to kill inside me the same way he wanted to fuck his ex-girlfriend's memories out of me I tried not to think about the fact that even though he put his arms around me he had to wear his jeans as soon as we were finished or that he showed up at my door at 2:30 in the morning with three beers and a pack of cheap condoms because he knew I'd be awake but looking at his blue eyes and blond hair and smooth beard all I could think about was how different you were and still so goddamn alike

"but like a new disease, she's still too young to treat" (inspired by Damien Rice's "Volcano")

[betweenparisandphoenix]

"[...] I wanted to turn her into poetry myself, but I’m not good with words and she was already an artwork."

[betweenparisandphoenix]

If there's one thing my mother taught me is that you can't heal properly if you keep peeling new scabs I guess I didn't listen carefully enough because I keep falling for you after promising it would be the last time I'd scratch you off my skin

[betweenparisandphoenix]

before you fall in love with him, you must know: he is the weirdest, most beautiful person you have ever met in your whole entire life he has these eyes these gorgeous fucking eyes that can either save you or break you she has the soul of a poet and such a disturbingly beautiful sadness within her heart that Shakespeare could make her his masterpiece once you’ve fallen, you’ll never be able to get up again you’ll spend the rest of your life trying to write a poem as beautiful and a song as bold as her and you will fail every single time once you’ve tasted his lips everyone else’s will taste like second best no matter how much you drench them in whiskey so before you break her heart, you must know: she took the scars from past lovers and turned herself into a fucking tiger she swallowed their burning hatred and became a volcano she will survive you but you won’t survive her

an open letter to whoever falls in love with my best friend

[betweenparisandphoenix]

(...) but what do you do when the person with whom you belong doesn't belong with you? shave your head, break their vinyls, get rid of every goddamned hair pin they left at your place take an hour long bath, a day long nap and as many packs of ultralights as you need whatever you do, don't turn them into poetry whatever you do, don't turn them into art here's what you do when the person with whom you belong doesn't belong with you: you move on you cry, you break, you fall and with your knuckles bruised from fighting you learn to belong with yourself

[betweenparisandphoenix]

It’s 2 am and I’m thinking about you How you ruined my favorite records How you painted yourself onto my favorite poems Goddamn, boy, why’d you leave me with nothing? I can no longer smoke my own pack without smelling your hair nor drink that brand of beer without tasting your lips Why’d you have to leave me with everything? It’s 2 am and I’m thinking about you and there’s nothing poetic about it