Catch Up

My love for you will still remain,

Even though it causes so much pain.

It doesn’t die as easily,

Despite how badly we try to kill it.

Putting poison in my viens,

I want you out of my head.

The hardest thing is–

Blackouts were something we shared.

So falling into that despair

Is stained with you.

How do I get away?

Such a fucking shame…

You hurt when you see me?

I hurt. Always.

It’s not a new feeling for me.

This has been manifesting.

Since I first laid eyes on you–

Confusion and contemplation.

You can be mad. Be fucking mad.

I’ve been mad,

So it’s about fucking time you caught up.

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Change of heart

I can’t even write about you. That’s when you know it’s bad. When the story I’ve been working on for years, suddenly seems like trash because it’s written about you.

You and your inconsiderate heart, me and my vulnerable soul.

That’s what this story seems to be about.

But, I can’t keep playing the victim. I chose to be broken by you. I searched for someone like you, to release all of the demons I had hiding so deeply within me.

So, I feel like this story may have changed its purpose in my life. No longer am I romanticizing you and our crazy, reckless, inconsistent love. It is a story of a girl and boy who broke each other and could never be the same again.

Freedom

I feel free. I saw you today and I almost smiled. I haven’t talked to you in a few days and I’m happy. I didn’t think I’d feel this way, but I do. I’m going to embrace it, because I deserve to be happy. Even if I did make you sad. I can only be in control of my own emotions, not yours. As much as I’d like to make you happy– that’s all I’ve been trying to do since we’ve been friends. I’ve put your emotions in front of mine for too long. It’s what I did for him too. The both of you were my number ones and I was always number two, just like I was for you.

I’ve cared so much and you’ve cared so little, wrapped up in your own life and drama of your love. You forgot I was there, in the sidelines cheering you on. Always there when you were down, when you didn’t want him, when you didn’t have him to hold. I was there. For the both of you. Open ears, open mind, open arms, but I left my heart closed. Because if it remained opened, I would’ve gotten burned, which is exactly what happened. I finally opened it. I finally opened my heart and my mouth to speak and you quickly shut it down. You can feel, but I can’t. You can love, but I can’t. You can fight, but I can’t. You can stir up drama and hate and confusion, but I can’t. I must remain silent around you and it hurts. It’s my own fault though. I shouldn’t fall into those bad habits. I shouldn’t let people walk all over me, talk to me without listening to me, judge me without hearing me out, fight with me without considering my side. When that’s all I do. All I do is wonder about you. How you’re doing. How he’s doing. How you’re both fucking doing and it hurts. Maybe I ended this the wrong way, but at least I ended it. I can say more than you can.

Cravings

I crave you. Around me, inside me, all over me. If I were to see you, it’d be all over for me. All over like the clothes we would tear off of one another and throw onto the floor.

You can take me. I’d gladly let you. It feels good to lose control to someone like you. Dark, reckless, angry and insensitive. Because I don’t need someone to care about me. I don’t need to be caressed and held dearly like a small kitten.

I’m not small or weak or fragile. I admire those who tip toe around me as if I am. I see pity in their eyes. I see constant worry as if my bones will shatter with the slightest flick on the wrist. They somehow see innocence, as if fawning over a newborn before being introduced to sin.

Maybe I like the darkness I see in you, because I feel it thriving inside myself and it’s desperate to take over. Then those other eyes watch me. Don’t lose your kindness. Don’t lose your soft, gentle touch— when all I want to do is tightly grip the strands of hair on your head to pull you closer.

Right now I’m not thinking about love. Love is innocent. Love is beautiful. Love is balanced. It’s a mutual feeling between two individuals that develops to comfort, respect and loyalty. I don’t want that.

What I feel so desperate for is passion. The most passion I’ve felt was during times of darkness. Maybe that’s my problem. My greatest, most heavy weighted feelings have been initiated by moments of running from cops, kissing taken men, tasting blood as it dropped down from a broken nose and sneaking back into my bedroom’s window only to spot my mother standing at the door way.

I was reckless and I loved it. I see that in others and it’s as if I can feel my own pupils dilate. The blackness of them expanding greater to spread over the light blue in my eyes.

I see it in you. That’s why I crave your lips on mine. I want to remember what that feels like. I want to remember what it feels like to not give a shit. I want to remember what it feels like to be seen as raw, brutal, bad and threatening. The same way I saw you when looking into those empty eyes.

Why is it that the bad is so damn inticing?┬áMaybe some of us just have a more difficult time escaping it than others. All I know is this–people like you make it hard for me.