Never Without YouSince the day we met
I have never lived without you.
Even since you left, clutching my beating heart
there has been a part of you
even when I'm almost content
there this shadow upon me,
cast by the memory of us
And I am sick, so sick
sick of the taste of you.
#7I can see your smiling face
Represented on a glowing screen
And I press delete,
As if it would erase the ghost of you.
Enough For YouI love the way your eyes seem way too big for your head, and that look you give when lingering on the cusp of an opinionated rant. Don't get me wrong, you're far from perfect, but you have this ability to pull my lips into a smile. And I could get lost in yours.
And we argue over stupid things like
What happens after we die
As if that somehow matters.
Then you just drop my sentences like used matchsticks into your fire of undeniable faith, and reach for the Slivovitz.
And sometimes I feel more than hard to love. Sometimes your grand adventures throw a perspective that I am not enough. And then you ask why I'm still always sad.
And when I'm reminded of him, always him, and my eyes are veiled and you lose count of the droplets clinging to my eyelashes, your voice is torturously tender; "I couldn't hurt you like he did".
It hurts to fall in love with all these little pieces of you. It hurts to feel my scars slowly fading into memories like ships in the night.
Because I know I'm not enough
And Then YouTonight I don't want to be alone. The dark, an emptiness full of unknowns, threatens my dim and wavering existence. Because I'm so small in everything and still not small enough to go unnoticed. And my head is full of so many regrets that roll like crashing waves.
Deep in my heart of hearts and soul of souls I see blue eyes- bright, painful memory and sharp lies and malcontent. Brown eyes- the things I did to start again and inadequacy and loss. Staring and soulless from the sockets of who I used to know. And my memories churn like turbulent seas, and roll like crashing waves.
All I can picture is this feeling of not being enough. I need to move on but maybe it's the past that's not letting go of me. Maybe I've tried to fight it. Maybe it's all too much.
I'm so meaningless and small and yet they won't let me slip away. I'm so lonely and they won't let me be alone.
And then there was you.
Bucolic SuffocationI'm getting kind of tired of this bucolic town, where nothing ever changes and everything is full of stale memories.
And I'm getting really sick of those arrogant people who breeze in and out, and make me feel inadequate with the life I'm living. In an indirect way, I suppose you were one of them.
At the moment, I'd do anything to be happy, even if it means leaving everything behind,just to have an excuse to never say your name again.
The night, The lighthouseThe night is so long. The night is so long and I hardly sleep without him here. It's nights like these that I had him close to where my fragile heart was beating.
The night is so long and lonely, and my life sometimes feels like an anomaly or an oblivion. Oh eternal universe, so endless and beautiful, oh time, my old friend. Please let me slip away.
On nights like this one I could touch the beauty of forever, that fleeting and perfect thing. On nights like this I was in love, for how could I not have loved him and his easy, wan smile?
The night is so long. I have spent these days in the dark. A year without the sun. A year without my love. Those with words more beautiful than my own have said it, that love is so short and oblivion so long.
The night is eternal for me. There will be no sun while he is not with me. Without him,
Without him I just try to stop the days from hurting.
I try to keep the pain away from me.
The night is so long and I am afraid of the dar
StrengthStrength is knowing that no one can hit me as hard as I've hit myself. I've pulled myself apart and become my own worst enemy. I've hurt myself more than anyone else ever could. And I'm starting to realize that I can't make myself good enough for you. I can't be everything you need or anything you want. So the days pass me by like razor blades and bruising blows. There is no comfort for me. And there's nothing to make the days stop hurting. All I get is that one moment held against you. One moment when all the voices in my head go silent. One moment when I'm not constantly refreshing the feelings of my own inadequacy. That's all there is for me.
Together in what might have beenYou're my
and I am your
Together in curses
without you it seems
to float away
and I can't find
my way back home
Last lamentYour face burns behind my eyes.
I feel myself begin to cry,
because you were everything to me.
and you and I just couldn't be.
An iron lump in my throat,
feel like I'm about to choke.
Hands go cold, knees give way.
Haven't seen you since that day.
I can still smell you in the air.
Feel my fingers running through your hair.
I can hear you say you love me so.
I can taste the regrets of letting go.
There wasn't room in your life for me,
and all the things we could be.
Bitter symphonies of cold lament,
the words I wish you never meant.
Memories bitter on my tongue,
all our moments, every one.
The taste of you in my mouth,
I'm fading, falling, going out.
And silent secrets are all I see,
with the priceless things we won't be.
Your face burns behind my eyes.
Still can't believe it was all lies.
--At first, she made dirty jokes, swore too much, and wore much more black than anyone should care for. She got annoyed far too easily and cared way too much. She wanted everyone to be happy, but she wasn't trying to please anybody by changing into something she wasn't. She'd make fun of herself and always found something humorous in any situation. She was attracted to the dark and abnormal. She was passionate, cynical, and strong. She was unapologetically herself.
Dig a little deeper, and you'll notice the bright blush across her face when she presented in class. You'll hear the softness in her voice when a teacher called on her, and realize that she never raised her hand, or greeted people first in the hallway. She always apologized first, often excessively. She felt bad for things that weren't her fault. She was the first to hold someone's hand when they were scared, and the last to give up on something that was important to her. She was shy, insecure, emotional and compassionate. She
The Things I Never got to Say “I’m sorry.”
That was always how my sentences should’ve started.
You usually were.
“I love you.”
Three simple words. Never could bring myself to say them, you always seemed to know, but you still deserved to be told.
“I love you more than the booze.”
I hate that I never told you that.
“I love you more than the drugs.”
“I miss you.”
I did every second we weren’t together.
“I love the way you laugh.”
I did. It made me feel lighter, like the world was ours and there was nothing that could stop us.
“I love your smile.”
Why didn’t I ever tell you that? I knew you knew, but I also knew that you were waiting for me to tell you.
“Your hair looks beautiful”
You never thought so, but I always loved it.
They went to school and never came back..
I was as usual in a state of bliss. That omnipotent feeling like duh, nothing can possibly go wrong with me. Nothing that life throws at me can stir me I am living happily in the paradise of oblivion I created. People are killed? Oh that's pretty normal. People are killed everyday. That place had a traffic accident? Who cares, driver should be blamed. Not my fault. Not my business. Terrorist are going to attack again? Oh a minute of worry. Than its shrugged off. After all , I am living in a big city. They wont attack here. WHY CARE FOR OTHERS? Why affect our own lives for them, after all I am a cursed observer who wont ever be victimized or so I believed .
Anyway, cold and jinxed as I may be, somewhere deep down I still cared, I still had the capability to feel the pain of others. And that I discovered today, on 16th December 2014 even a person like me couldn't stop her tears. The tragedy that has befallen us cannot be described in words.
Imagine yourself as 15 year old ready for schoo
Waiting, Fading, and Floating AwayI started talking to serial killers years ago when the depression started to form. Or maybe it had always been there? I’m not the kind of person who lets my emotions get the best of me. I’m always the calm and rational person people often go to for advice and support.
Though, I’ve always found it funny how people always expect me to be there for them, but when I need them, no one is around. But I guess that’s kind of how my whole life has been. I’m only here when you need me, and I guess that existence is an existence enough.
I had read books on true crime and killers for a while, but it never occurred to me to write to them until I was fifteen. I remember coming home one day done with the world, and instead of taking my life, I wrote a letter.
At first, I had written to Charles Manson, Joe Metheny, Gary Ridgeway, Charles Cullen, and David Berkowtiz (Son of Sam). I wrote about my life, my pain, my struggles, and how lonely I felt. It never really phased me
There is that girl
Yes that girl
Well I know her
I know her since a while now
and I like her
not like a lover or anything
I just like her
I like staring at her
when she draws
when she stares at the sky
I like staring at her in general
I don't know if she is pretty
But I find her pretty
I seem being the only noticing that
I tend to bother her a lot
because I like her
I like her a lot
She says she hates that
But I don't believe her
So I keep bothering her
She also says she is fine
when I ask her what is wrong
But I don't believe her
So I keep asking
I keep asking
because I know
I know she lies
I like her
I like her a lot
and I seem being the only one noticing
I like her so much
that I don't wanna show her
how I feel about her
Even if I have to say
I don't like her
I like her
I like her a lot
I like staring at her writing in her diary
I know she dislikes that
But I keep
Against Human TraffickingI'd rather sell my body to the highest bidder, every night for the rest of my life, than sell my child.
I'd rather be a burglar than trade away my child to pay off my debts.
I'd rather live on the streets than see my child give up an education so she/he can earn money for the family.
RunningI've never wanted to run away so much. Just keep running, until I can taste blood in my mouth and breathing hurts and you are so very far away. You stare blankly, and make my heart howl like a wild animal as it attacks my chest and fights against the bonds holding it in. Your gaze is steady, you know how much pain it's causing me. Your lips in a half smile as you bask in my pain. My vision blurs as A fresh batch of tears collects in my eyes, glazing them with my sadness. And you're still smiling, so proud of yourself. So gleeful at the fact that you inflicted this.