a love poem for once 

I’m so used to writing out of sadness, that I’m unsure how to write about you. I’ve written about dark places and empty faces. How ex-lovers stripped colour from my world like I was nothing more than a scrapped canvas in their art exhibit. I’ve found difficulties in wording how you’ve slowly brought it back. That with each kiss on my lips placed by yours is filling each blank space in my heart like watercolour, bleeding love into every crack.

When one is so used to finding beauty in darkness, they’re often blinded by the light.

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9:20pm // YOU CANT END WHAT DIDNT BEGIN

I’m not sure what happened,
but somewhere along the line our nothing became something to me.
the worst part about that is 
now every fibre of my being is screaming to run,
to ruin it.
it’s screaming that it’s one-sided.
that while 
my heart is bursting into flames,
yours is trying to pour cold water to douse me with pain.
that I’m preparing myself to run into a brick wall again,
and soon enough I’ll be covered in bruises.
I didn’t want this to be anything,
and the problem is that it isn’t anything.
yet,
my heart has tried to plant its roots in your garden
while yours is trying to pick me out like a weed.
and my mind is saying
to stop trying to grow with you because
I’m not a flower you’re willing to feed.
though I’m unsure if my mind is playing tricks again,
and I’m not sure if you’re just a friend.
the worst part?

I don’t want to ask,

because frankly.. I’m scared to be right.

names

when they said his name, I didn’t think of the way his hand touched mine. for a second I forgot about the words I spit from my mouth when his tried to taste my tongue. no, I thought of when he spoke your name and asked what I saw in you. I remember that night you kept me safe when his hungry eyes saw me as nothing more than a mouse to chase. I may not remember that night, but I’ll never forget that in my darkest hours you were my light. I was the match and you were my flame. now you’re nothing but a burned out wick and I’m smoke in the wind. memories of us have began to fade but I’ll never forget how we burned together.

dear god, we could have set the world on fire.

promises mean nothing

We were so excited to spend fall together. You were going to play me songs on your guitar aside bonfires in your backyard, while I sit curled up beside you in your hoodie.

You promised me we’d have a candlelit bath and drink cheap wine, because you know how much I loved both.

We were supposed to spend Christmas together and watch movies, those stupid ones that everyone watches around the holidays. I do it every year, and you wanted to make me smile.

None of those actually happened. You even told me you’d spend my birthday with me.. but when the time came you were nowhere to be found.

Its almost summer now.
And now you’re not even around.

Isn’t it funny how things work out?

like a fish on a line

Now I wonder if your “I miss you” was just a whiskey-fuelled way to keep me around. I’m tired of being that late night call, knowing you smell of cheap booze and cigarettes while I lay in bed wrapped in your t-shirt. You feed me sweet words and empty promises that I know have no substance but it keeps me going. I feed off of your distance, it keeps me grounded. You’ve become my centre, and I’m left wandering aimlessly as pieces, hoping you’ll bring me back together. I’m tired of leaving messages that go unanswered, of being nothing to you until you’re satisfied with where we stand. Reeling me back in like a fish on a line, with no intentions of unleashing the hook you’ve pierced through my lip. And I haven’t realized the damage it’s done because each time it rips, you kiss it better. I don’t know any better. And you know that.

What will it take? Until you tear me apart?

beer reminds me of her

I taste beer off of strangers tongues, reminds me of when our lips met on your fathers deck. The smell always made me sick but how I wish I could have one more chance to run my hand around your neck. To hold you on a couch that’s just small enough for two, and how scared I was of falling in love but you made it easy to.

Oh how I wish there was still something between me and you

don’t 

Don’t leave. I’m so used to people leaving, and believing their soft spoken lies saying they’ll always be by my side.

I believed yours, yet you’ve proven time again that you’re no better than them. Your mouth forms pretty lies that you’re able to hide behind.

You didn’t want to hurt me, what a fucking lie. If you didn’t want to hurt me, you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t. But you, did time after time.

Don’t leave, please. I know you said not to worry but I do, I do. Now I know it was for good reason, the words you said were never true.

For you left, you left, you left…

Beloved Hands Don’t Always Love

i. My mothers hands never had a soft land on the skin across my cheek. Always rough side, knuckle bared swipe leaving me with the realization I could never do right. Could always do better, be better, be nothing like anything. Just say what she thought and do as she does and I could walk away with less bruises this time.

ii. That’s why when his rough hands took fistfuls of hair I grit my teeth, I did not swear. He always said, I could be like her. He wanted me to be like her. Just do as he says, and say what he needs and I would leave with less cuts on my knees.

iii. Yet her.. her hands seemed soft and safe, unlike past skin – against mine did not chafe. Though soft hands proved strong grips, with nails like claws – skin rips. She always said it was my fault. So I do as she says, repeat words that pass her lips in hopes that maybe this time she’ll loosen grips.

I learned to trust no hands, not even my own. As the most damage dealt was done alone.