You grabbed my hands,
pulled them away from my legs
and yelled at me to stop.
I will not stop scratching
at this skin I am sick of living in,
in this world I am sick of living in.
My nails are sharp enough to draw blood.
Your words have destroyed worlds.
My brother is a self fulfilled prophecy
and I’m sure to be the same.
The monster’s eyes we thought we saw
in the darkest parts of the night,
are starting to look like yours.
I have led between an angel and a devil,
I know where my loyalties lie.
He reminded me of someone from my childhood,
Too innocent to get by in this world
And my foolish hands are something to be feared.
But you were always someone I’d do anything for.
Five hours to prove I could be someone special,
I wanted you to know that I was nothing but glass.
If your body is a crime scene consider mine a battlefield
Because tonight I’m writing in another voice to escape my own.
Purple and red. Love and hate.
It can only ever end in war.
You’re my glass of wine at the end of the day, a warm blanket for me to sink into, someone familiar, something like home. I’ve traced your veins and buried myself in the comfort of your heartbeat, I’ve whispered my stories into your ear and tasted the salt on your lips. We’ve perfected subtle glances, stubborn minds, complete lust and longing. Maybe that’s all I need to keep believing. Maybe that’s all I need.
you and i were the “quote unquote” of things unspoken, things that existed but could never be said, things that i often think i imagined, things that felt completely unreal. we were the supposed, with emptiness in between. we were always “something”, but never were we anything our hearts were willing to admit.
(Source: 52hearts)
Because no matter how far you run or how much you isolate yourself you’ll still get cold in a bed too big for one. You’ll still miss them as thoughts of them trickle into your mind each day, you’ll still get upset that it didn’t ever work out. No matter where you are in the world, no matter what you’re doing, jealousy can still stab and loneliness can still follow. Your ability to be human will never leave your side.
I loved her. And she did me. Very much so. More than two people probably ever have. And it was never-ending. But she knew who she was and I was still finding out. I had to leave and I promised her I’d wait. I told her I needed to find out for myself why I was leaving in the first place. Unlike my family, she understood. Unlike my family, she couldn’t let me go.
And although I’m still waiting. She isn’t.
(via amourstatique)
“We just never got our timings right” The words repeated themselves over and over again in his head as he fumbled with her necklace. He thought back to the day she said goodbye, tears in her eyes and his heart on the floor.
It wasn’t a sweet goodbye. It wasn’t a lovers parting farewell. It was an angry goodbye, the easy was out. At least that’s how he saw it.
“You understand don’t you?” She slung her bag over her shoulder “It’ll hurt less this way.”
“Who for?” He stared at the sky, trying to focus on anything rather than what was happening right now but it wasn’t working.
“Don’t do that. You know we can’t do this anymore, I can’t keep clinging to nothing.” She pressed her forehead to his “We just never got our timing right”
He nodded but didn’t understand. He wasn’t nothing, they weren’t nothing. They just weren’t something either.”
He never told her she forgot her necklace. He hoped maybe she’d be looking for it. He hoped she’d be looking for him.
I choked on my words this morning and I’ve been trying to swallow them ever since. But lately, they’ve been getting stuck in the back of my throat, somewhere between the unsaid and the unknown. Sometimes it feels as though they have failed me.
Words have always made sense to me, but lately, mine haven’t at all.
(Source: awriterandnothingelse, via creatingaquietmind)
I can never be what you want me to be. I can never be the “indie movie” girl with the wind in her hair and the sun on her face. I will never be carefree or out-going. I won’t be a montage of coffee shop kisses or dipping our toes in lakes.
And we can never be that movie like I want us to be.
Maybe all we’ll have in the end is nothing. Maybe we I should walk away. What if it all comes down to a conversation you can’t seem to remember and I can’t seem to forget?
I’m sick of apologizing for being myself.
