If inspiration was a time,
it would be 3am
when my eyes are heavy
but my thoughts are wildly awake
when the pen in my hand shakes
but the words on the paper
illuminate in the moonlight.

if honesty was a time,
it would be 3:15am
when my thoughts
met the paper
and my tears left my heart.



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After we broke up, I started drinking. I started smoking and my hands stopped shaking for you. Instead they shook from all that shit I inhaled, for once it wasn’t about you anymore. My mother kicked me out three days after you left . I took her car, drove two hours and drank myself numb but even then, you were the only thing I could think about. My mother called me twenty five times and I didn’t pick up once, the only voice I wanted to hear was yours. I kept my phone beside me the whole night, I got out of the car and laid on the concrete floor, tried to not think of you. I wanted to call you so fucking bad, so I got up, got into the car, left my phone on the concrete and drove in reverse, smashed it into tiny little pieces because I know nothing has changed. You still haven’t learned how to love me and I still haven’t learned how to forget about it.
—  untold stories // thewordsyouneverunderstood
My dearest, stop looking and asking for your Prince Charming. No boy will come riding on a white horse to save you from your peril up in your tower. It’s no use to have a self-pity party and wait for your happily-ever-after. Fairytales aren’t meant to come breathing out of book pages. There’s no “once upon a time” that drags on to tell a story of a love between two lovers who overcame great dangers. Stop romanticizing Sleeping Beauty and wake up on your own. Don’t let just any guy kiss you. If you have to dress up and plaster a different persona for him to like you, drown the Cinderella and Ariel in you. He’s not worth the trouble because at the end of the night, when the makeup isn’t plastered on your face and you’re lying on your bed crying, he has to know that this is you - not some dolled up version of you. Don’t fall for a pretty face and a nice smile. There’s more to guys than the way the sun makes their eyes glow and the butterflies you get from their smiles. My dearest, stop searching for a perfect guy. You’ll never find him. Just like you, guys are flawed. Stop romanticizing them. In some way or another, they are bruised, hurt, and broken. You might see stars in their eyes, but know they also have seen too much of this messed up world. You might see flowers on their skin, but understand they have fallen down before and been marked with scratches from evening beasts. There’s no beauty in pain. There’s no perfection in a human being. My dearest, everyone is flawed. Find someone who not only complements your broken pieces, but also keeps them from breaking apart even further. Even if that means he gets hurt in the process.
But it’s alright. I’ll be alright without you. I’m going to find someone who wants to know me, I mean really know me. They’ll ask about my mother and they’ll know that I’ve always wished to be closer to my father. They’ll ask what I’m scared of, what makes my body ache and they’ll know it. They’ll sing me my favorite songs on the nights when I can’t sleep and someone is going to hold my hand without being shaky and I’m sorry that it can’t be you, know that it won’t be you and someday, years from now, your mother will call to ask how you’ve been and she’ll tell you that she saw me, she’ll tell you that my soul isn’t black and blue anymore, that I speak without a stutter, and you’ll tell her you fucked up. I was everything you needed but I was everything you were too scared to seize. When you realize this, it’ll be too late by then. I’ll have met somebody else, somebody worth breaking my bones for.
—  Some Shit // thewordsyouneverunderstood

I. The best way to hurt me is to
Pretend like you actually give a shit
And then never follow through.
I don’t wear my heart on my sleeve,
I keep it pinned to my back.
Tell me,
Was that a mistake?
It was supposed to be your lighthouse,
When did it become the bull’s-eye instead?
We go through life waiting for someone to walk away
Instead of getting ready to let someone in,
You should’ve let me in but now I’m walking away.
You used to make me feel like I was a mountain,
But you left your dynamite too close;
I thought they were fireworks.
I thought I could trust you.

II. My stomach feels like acid
And I know that shit sounds obvious
But I didn’t think it’d be that hard to digest
Every bullet you sent into my throat.
I swallowed your love like a sword,
But nobody trained me.
You left blood
(And more)
Wherever you traced yourself on me.
Was that your intention?
To leave cracks in my foundation
So that all at once
You could leave me on my knees?
Some people say our knees are our prayer beds,
I say it’s our deathbed when you’re not speaking to God.
Twenty dollars says you didn’t even have the decency to
Get me a casket.
I’d throw in another twenty to bet
There won’t even be a funeral held.

III. I am not proud that my head writes two suicide notes a day,
Nor am I proud of the tattoos on my body that didn’t use ink.
But I was always proud of everything that I gave to everyone else.
Love is useless just for me
So that’s why I tend to hand it out to every passing stranger.
It’s strange how you started that way,
It’s even stranger that’s how you’ll leave.

IV. You were nothing
Like my heart expected but
That’s my mistake.
I’ve spent way too many years
Blaming everyone but myself.

—  "Hurt Me Once, Shame On You. Hurt Me Twice, Shame On Me" - Nishat Ahmed