Waiting

You wait for me: my imagined perfection
a succulent, sweet nectar quenching
your parched throat.
Infallible, incapable of causing
pain, wonderful savior -
redeeming you by my mere existence.

You wait for my love
freely given and a free pass
to heaven on earth with each
gentle kiss. A masterpiece
of art and a perfectly constructed
poem written just to ease the pain
in your soul.

You wait for me to return and hold
you tight - comforting cuddles
given in sleep revive your
weary mind. Personal defibrillator
to jump-start your broken down heart.

But as we lay nestled in thick, warming covers
and down pillows and satin sheets;
I wonder when my treachery will be discovered.
Yes, I’m only waiting to be caught in my deceit.

I feel your smile
I give it back
It pains

I’ll keep the lies
I’ll let you run
My veins

I’ll give you everything
I’ll drag away my heart
So hold it
Feel
Still beating
And taste my tears with blood

I’m feeding
My eyes with you
Two
Your happiness
Blessing
But her
Pain’s confessing

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One.
You lost her weeks before she actually broke up with you. You lost her when her eyes met someone else’s and ventured too far into their smile that you couldn’t get her back. You lost her between their exchanged hellos and you lost her when she realized she never really knew what love was with you. You felt it like a bullet in the back that knocked the breath out of you but somehow part of you tried to breathe through your punctured lungs until you heard the words coming out of her mouth for the last time. You lost her weeks before she actually broke up with you.

Two.
Three weeks into your relationship you realized she’d overuse the words ‘I love you’ like they’d become a mantra to her thoughts. She’d spill them over goodbyes that smell like coffee and summer days that are too hot and you’ll feel the words slip from her mouth and suspend into the air like all she’s trying to do is convince herself that she was in love with you.

Three.
You could have sworn her lips were sunshine on the coldest day of the year but now you’re left with the aftermath of burns splattered along your arms and neck where she left empty kisses and no amount of cold showers will stop your skin from peeling right off your bones. Don’t fight it. Don’t try to tear at the sunburnt flesh hanging from your body as if it’s the only part of her you still have. I read somewhere that skin cells need 35 days to replace themselves, and one day you’ll be left with a whole new body she’s never touched and hands she’s never held and you won’t feel her crawling under your skin anymore.

Four.
You can’t listen to your favorite songs anymore because you taste her name in every word she used to sing and before you know it you’re choking on bitter promises. Your tongue feels like acid in your mouth and it kicks off an all too familiar gag reflex at the back of your throat and you’ll need to hold your knees against your chest to stop yourself from throwing up. You’ll fall asleep that way and wake up with nausea twisting hurricanes in your stomach. But you’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.

Five.
You try to reread everything she’s written about you and you wonder if she had laced it all together with strings of vacant words. You lose yourself between every promise she’d scribbled down in her notebook like the lies took a part of you and threw it across your bedroom; a glass bottle shattered against a brick wall. Let her break your heart into a million pieces, but please don’t let her take the pieces of you away with her. Wait a few days and pick your pieces off the floor again. Wait a few more weeks and put yourself together. Darling it’ll sting like hell but the stitches will fade away and one day you’ll run your fingers over your body and feel whole again.

Six.
That first night the sky lit up when we kissed, you made me promise to never write our break up poem, and I think that’s oddly fitting because somehow I’ve lost all my words somewhere between your lips.

—  The six stages of losing her. // by rb
Loaded gun

Forgot you hold a loaded gun
I’m holding what is left to me
Love ended earlier than began
I am not what I used to be
My blasphemy
Your fault
We sit upon this wreck
The room is closed and cold
So no one would disturb
Let’s view the cards of future
And ashes of the past
We didn’t draw the picture
I hoped that would be last
My blasphemy
Your fault
We sit upon this wreck
The room is closed and cold
So no one would disturb
I feel your voice away
Your fingers trough his hair
My lips still try to pray
For dreams I used to bare

If monstrous waves come to tear us apart tonight, I want to tell you something. Thank you, for teaching me how to play rummy on my grandmas cellar floor. Thank you for never mistaking my crossed arms for boarded up doors. Thank you from here to there. Thank you for loving me on my bright days and for still loving me when the sun wasn’t there. I hope that you hear me over the hurricane cries. I hope you know that every time I prayed for stronger tides to pull me away they always brought me back to your front stoop. The salt water always helps me find my way back to you.
—  b.e.fitzgerald

"I’m almost 19. I love my boyfriend and I just want our life to start already."

I’d like to get to know you
the way your bed and pillows know you.
I want the dip of the mattress and
the way it contorts to your body.
I’d like to get to know you
the way your clothes know you
and the way your words know you.
I’d like to get to know you
inside and out,
delve into you - into the parts of you
that no one else gets to see.
I’d like to know you
the way others do
and others don’t -
maybe even including yourself.
I’d like to get to know you
the way the sun knows the horizon
and the way the stars know the sky.
I’d like to get to know you
wholly,
passionately,
and genuinely.
I never wanted anyone to save me, I just want someone I can count on to hold my hand even as I self-destruct. I never bought into that bullshit about being with someone who makes you a better person. I want to be loved & I want to be loved for all that I am, from the girl that compulsively lies about meaningless details to the girl who gives all of her money to the homeless. No one is going to make me be someone I’m not, I’m just going to learn I have to hide things to keep them around & I don’t want that. The masks are all too heavy & I think I’m beautiful & even at my most messy, I’m worth loving, because I love people the way I want to be loved & there’s nothing better than that.
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