They always come back, but we don’t always answer.
I stopped writing in the obvious. I wrote how I saw it and if they don’t understand it, that’s fine.
I didn’t fear you. I feared us. I feared what could have been. I feared what could be. I feared the connection we had between each other. The toxicity because I could grasp the danger.
We grow apart because we grow in different stages and not all of our stages align.
If I had amnesia, I know I would fall in love with you all over again.
The fact that neither of us made sense was the beauty of it.
I think we might’ve met in a past life. You know, one of those you pass and think, wow you’re kind of beautiful. Just one of those.
I romanticized him until he was the perfect being. A soul so beautiful, but so immensely evil too.
To fall in love with pain is to fall in love with art.
Masochists hold on to broken people. Artists hold on to broken memories.
You didn’t understand the poem, but that was because it wasn’t for you. It was for me to understand the pain you put me through.
They’re scared of the other kind of love. The one which lacks hurt, but pains after awhile.
We live in a world of contrast and it’s sad we are among people who can’t seem to grasp the differences surrounding them.
Your intuition speaks on a higher plane than anything you’ll ever grasp.
I gave him my heart without thinking how it would feel if he returned it.
He said he liked my rhythm. I said I liked his heartbeat, and it was within that moment I knew our corners would never meet.
His whisper was the softest sound I ever knew, which seemed to bring the loudest heartbeat.
He grabbed my hand and that’s when I felt my heart beat for the very first time.
It’ll always be mine, but it’ll always be your heart.
I, too, was fiercely independent and thought I could make two equal four.
It wasn’t good. It was good in the beginning and I held on to that.
Ran out of things to say, metaphors for you. Why the ocean’s clear instead of blue, why mountains in the distance had reminded me of you.
We were as big as the ocean, but as fragile as an ego.
You were a rhyme who mattered, a being who slipped all too often.
Not every relationship is meant to last. Some are there to create an impact on your life. Relationships that last three months are just as important as ones that last a lifetime.
I stopped writing in a way they would understand because it wasn’t for them or even him. It was for I to understand, for I to make sense, and for I to let go of it.
Life isn’t about building something with someone else. It’s about building something for a cause greater than yourself, but if someone comes along and they’re worthy enough, we let them build with us.
running with sharp knivesnever got me so farbut running with youseemed lovely
I loved you with texture. You loved with a softness. Texture brought detail, softness brought folds. Folds brought creases and creases had secrets.
How you react to a situation says more about you than you know.
The thing with breaking up is they leave, but the memories stay.
You’re not supposed to be in a relationship because it’s comfortable, it’s supposed to be because they make you a better person.
Silence is only awkward if one cannot feel a connection with the other.
When you know, you know and it flows in your mind like waves. Coming forward as it pulls with the tide. It brings anxiety, terror, and it’s beyond anything plausible.
Don’t break my heart. Crush it. Destroy it. Let me wallow it until I feel hollow in it. I’ll bash in the pain. I’ll scream your name and then one day I suddenly won’t.
I loved you with different words than you knew and that seemed to scare you.
Loving him made me never want to love another human being.
Loving you was easy. Hating you was hard. Falling out was insane.
You were like fine wine, but cheap wine gets you drunk faster.
Looking back and wondering if it could have worked eventually hurts more than trying and failing.
The hard part wasn’t breaking up. The hard part is forcing myself to fall out of love with you.
Sticks and stones may break my bones but your words were always the hardest.
They say if the love is true, then it’s easy. But that’s false. Love is complicated. It’s sticky. It’s bliss and it’s a mix of emotions. It’s not easy.
Losing someone doesn’t scare me. Death doesn’t scare me. What scares me is the inability to no longer feel the touch of the one you love.
You don’t need them. It’s that simple. But for some reason it’s complex. It’s difficult. It’s dangerous. We can’t seem to fathom it.
One day he’ll realize he is and was wrong. But that’s for him to figure out. You can’t change people or make them realize things they don’t want to see.
It takes awhile, but eventually you realize they lost you. You didn’t lose them.
The silences weren’t awkward. For me at least. Because I was there in the moment with him.
They leave to test the waters but fail to realize the waters are full of rapids.
The problem was I always took the blame. But he was wrong. But I thought me taking the blame could fix it.
Instead of writing my rules, I followed his. And that’s when I knew it all went wrong.
Three years later and I’m still writing about you. I don’t know if that says more about you or I.
My mistakes were because I was selfless. I wanted to complete someone else, I didn’t think about completing myself.
Eventually I’ll stop writing about you and it’ll be bittersweet. Not because I’m not in love with you, but because I’ll just love you.
He said I wanted revenge, but if I wanted revenge I would’ve just broken his heart.
When someone says they love you, don’t believe it. Love is shown with actions and not words.
When you complete yourself is when you can complete someone else.
Relationships aren’t meant to be based upon example. If you go with the flow all will come.
We do things because we want it, not because they’re good for us.
Sometimes others narcissism will take place of your happiness. Don’t let it happen.
If you’re in a relationship and find yourself constantly using “we” instead of “I” – stop. You are more than your relationship.
I pushed him against his Jeep, looked him dead in the eye and kissed him. He asked if he could come up, and I just walked up the steps and said, not yet. That was the moment I knew I loved him.
Sometimes the anxiety takes over and I can’t seem to fathom the love he gives me.
All of your fears and thoughts were mine, you were so scared but it was beyond divine.
Old-fashioned dating still exists. You’re either dating the wrong people or you are the problem.
Maybe the problem isn’t everything and everyone around you, but what lies within you.
I think if we stop running towards broken arms, we’d all be just fine.
Don’t allow people to come in and out of your life when it only benefits them.
I never expected you to understand, but I did expect you to be there.
I loved you before all of this. When there was nothing. When there was only a single atom in the night sky.
He was beautiful and still is, we just couldn’t flow within the same constellation.
Some long for acceptance while others fear for anything ordinary.
Arrogance will kill anything and everything you ever possibly have.
His love was a poison: soft and loveable, hideous yet touchable.
Wrote you a poem or two. You didn’t enjoy them, but I did for you.
I’m not looking for anything, but who knows. Lightning is weird.
I’m accustomed to toxicity and can’t control myself when I’m near it.
we were justlooking for what couldinstead of what waswhat should beinstead of how it was
I’ll never know if it was figuratively or literally when he said I drove him crazy.
I stumbled upon something and someone so magnificent I was truly blind to it.
Who knows if you’re alive anymore, but better yet, who knows if I’m even alive anymore?
I didn’t know what it was, who I was or who he was. I just knew what we could have become as one.
I don’t believe he deserves the thousands of poems I’ve written about him, but life doesn’t follow rules. We do things for people who don’t necessarily deserve it. But we liked it, we loved it and fell in love enough to write about it.
Occasionally we must disconnect to reconnect later on.
Give second chances, third chances, but not a fourth, a fifth, a sixth and so on. Appreciate yourself and understand your worth – know it takes time for people to change, to become better. But know what you can take and what you deserve.
I believe we were right for each other, but not in that moment, which perhaps hindered any possibility of a future.
I don’t remember his face or the place we ate. I only remember how he grabbed my hand and his voice when he spoke of his dad.
He said he was going to fix everything and I believed him. But I believed him before and again some. And I guess I got lost in the resentment of disbelief.
You don’t get over it. You move past it. You move through it. You lose yourself to find it, and when found, it’s yours and no longer theirs.
Loving you was hard, wanting you was harder, but kissing your forehead was insanity.
I’m floating. I’m flowing. I’m loving, but I’m going.
You have to grow. You have to be. You have to love yourself unconditionally.
I see more light than dark, but when I encounter dark I seem to get lost in it.
We must make tough decisions to see if it’s worth it in the end.
We grooved together with a rhythm so beautiful that I could feel the moment turned into poetry.
Sadness brings delicacy. Happiness brings subliminal terror.
People are so worried about being accepted that it causes them to lose themselves and in turn, lose moments.
I never said I love you because I knew he would understand it differently. I loved him, and I still do, but it was as a chapter. It wasn’t as a fairytale ending.
Sometimes relationships aren’t meant to be forever. We stumble upon one another to learn, to love, to appreciate and become who we’re supposed to be.
We were in ways I can’t seem to grasp. We moved like fluid, scattering our love throughout each other. We moved along, out of our eyes and through our veins. It was unintentionally and in turn, unconditionally.
They’re scared of death, but that’s like being afraid of life.
Some days I wonder if I stopped writing about him, if I’d love him a little less.
Maybe I hold on for too long, but maybe you don’t hold on for long enough?
Sometimes he does talk back, but sometimes he doesn’t. Sometimes he’s not there; and from time to time I believe this was all nothing but imaginary.
As he stood in the darkness, his eyes glistened and that’s when I knew my light found its traction.
I danced as he twirled in and out of consciousness, and there we were, one in love and the other astray.
I’ve spent awhile trying to figure out where I’m going and the only thing I’ve come to realize is it doesn’t matter where, it’s how I get there.
When you look in the mirror, do you look at yourself or for yourself?
Sure, he might not have been perfect, but if I thought he was, isn’t that all that matters?
It was love. It was lust. It was just between us. The passion, the desire, the fire. The way we held on in so little time and his eyes when he saw me for the first time.
Sometimes love them more than you, but just make sure you love yourself too.
He was good and then really good and then bad and then really bad, but since he was good I got lost in the thought that I could fix it.
I write in seconds. I don’t stop. I don’t think. I simply write and when it comes, it flows and it makes sense because it’s genuine. I don’t understand thought-out poetry. It doesn’t seem real to me.
It wasn’t worth it, but at the time it was. And that’s all that mattered.
It was our first date and I asked what his favorite movie is. He asked if I’d judge him, but instead of judging him I just loved him.
People love the facade of a perfection relationship because perfection seems alluring. What they don’t realize is perfection is terrifying.
I loved everything to anything to everyone who surrounded him. He was perfect. A delusion with a sweet melancholy taste. He was crazy, but he was my crazy and inside, everything felt right.
You want to know what I loved about him? Everything. From a freckle on his ass down to his undying selfish need to always be right.
I don’t want content. I want slight fear. Anxiety. I want a longing devotion for a twist of absence. The feeling of complete isn’t quite pleasing.
I touched him. From brain to body, in ways I couldn’t quite understand. But he did and for him, that was all that mattered.
I worked with him in a way where there was no need to align. We felt and the feeling was simple but complex. It was the intensity in our grasp and when it was done, it was done.
I realized I loved him after everything went wrong so I wallowed in self-pity and prayed I could wake up.
I smell him in intervals, in varieties, in ways I don’t quite understand.
I like the chase, scavenging and how we unravel. Standing naked with all my pores at the door. Waiting for a response, a love, someone to call my home. Where my emotions graze the air and I’m lying half past gone.
He wasn’t a good person, but I painted him to be and since I painted it, I believed it.
I love you, but I’m more in love with myself and that’s the problem.
Hallucinations aren’t always out of the ordinary. How do we know we’re not hallucinating if everything seems plausible?
And I went into the new year loving myself a little less, but a little more where it actually mattered.
I knew I’d be troubled, but who knew awhile meant forever?
And sometimes being in love is not enough to make it work.
Broken boys are dangerous, but broken men are lovely.