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try me on

@residentwhoreofthegroup-blog

a whore in the sheets but a hopeless romantic in the streets//18//bisexual

You were too afraid

To say it first. For fear I wouldn’t feel the same. I waited and waited.

Finally.

I told you to look at me. You did. And with all the confidence in the world. I said it.

I love you.

And I meant it.

You were so happy. You’re like my little puppy. I love it. You’re adorable. You’re what I’ve been waiting for.

I love you. Means so much to both of us.

I wake up

To 11 missed calls. I frantically call back. On the 11th call. You answer. And yell at me for waking you up. You gave me a fucking panic attack because I thought you were dead and I get yelled at?
Fuck your sweeties and baby’s, you’re a damn prick. I thought you were gone and I get the blame for you not?
Go to hell babe.
Sweetie
Is what he calls me. It’s so innocent and endearing and it scares me. Within a day of saying hi I’m falling for you. And you seem to be doing the same. I fell asleep on you last night and you stayed on the phone for 2 hours to make sure I wouldn’t wake up alone.
Who are you?
This is a feeling I’ve had before but this one makes me feel good.
I hope I don’t lose you.

Again

I let you use me again tonight and by God it felt fucking amazing. Those hip bones, the curve of your smirk, the seriousness of your teasing words. I can't keep doing this.

I just wanted to know about the driving test. And instead I got you heavy and hot between my thighs whispering sweet nothings in my ear.

I want you. But you're so reserved and closed off and I can't break those walls down.

So I let you fuck me in the hopes that you'll find peace in my arms.

Maybe one day you'll stay and let me hold you instead of throwing your pants on and kissing me roughly before walking out the door.

Let me love you like you love my body

Fuck you.

Fuck you for telling me we could ever be a thing. Fuck you for making me think that you actually cared. Fuck you for lying right to my face.

Because when I bolted awake from that dream, where your hands were on my waist and your lips were on my neck, I cried. I cried because you weren't beside me.You were in another girls bed, telling her all the things you told me. But for her, you meant them.

So fuck you for making me love you. Fuck you for it all.

4 am

You broke my heart again. I opened the text only to close it. "Sorry I was FaceTimeing the girl I'm trying to fix things with."

What. The. Fuck.

You told me you hoped she'd call it all off. You hoped for your sanity and her mentality that you'd both agree that friends would be better.

But no.

Let's get back with the girl who physically hurts you. Who makes you feel insignificant. While make you question the entire relationship.

Why?

Why am I not good enough?

I texted back and said I hope it works for you two. I hope it doesn't because I'm selfish. I want you for myself. Even though you hurt me.

Because you always come back to me in the end.

You'll be back. I can wait.

1 hour

That was all we needed to fix our friendship. One hour of memories and truths and lies. One hour of shaky breaths and hushed words and silence. But when we hung up. It was fixed. Not only our friendship...

But my heart.

Damn you. You said never say never. But I've waited so long. So damn long. And you break all my resolve in an instant. One damn smile and I am on my knees for you again. You fix me...

Only to break me.

Please. Let tonight be the start of us. Let tonight be how our story starts. Let this moment be what we tell our future children. Let this day be what we whisper about under bedsheets as we kiss all those feelings into place.

Let right now be the story of Us.

Don't do it...

He will push you over the edge of reality only to save you and call himself the hero. He will look you in the eyes and say he loves you with his fingers crossed behind his back. He will convince you to isolate yourself so only he can have you and then he will leave you all alone for someone else. He will play you like you are the prettiest violin and you let him. You let him do this to you because you belive he will change for you. You belive every sugar-coated lie he tells you because you belive that this is love.

It isn't.

Don't let his abuse become your definition of love.

I thought I was loved

You were all I wanted

You are still all I want

I gave you all of me

And yet...

She is better

The one who makes you cry

Is better

Than the one who kissed your tears away...

You don’t love him. But you like to think that you do, because when you do you don’t feel so hollow anymore; the makeshift image you have created in your mind has swallowed the dark clouds of your mind, his eyes and smile the stars lurking beneath, and with every passing thought the sky turns into him. Your world becomes fragments of what he is, what he used to be and what he will become; you don’t love him, but you make a world out of him. You imagine what it feels like, being in love, and summer dances in your veins, washing every little, frozen doubt away under its sun kissed arms and heavenly touch. Love is supposed to be good, he makes you feel good; isn’t that love then? But if love is good and it heals, how come you can’t stop the rapture of your arteries, or the shredding of your heart’s chambers; if this is love, why did you make him to be a world you could step on? Cobblestones beneath your feet, and you trip with every step. Sore knees, crimson puddles, but you keep walking as you keep telling yourself; he is my world. The trees are his arms, grass his hair and mountains the deprivation he has risen within you. Tall and sturdy they reign, their tops coated in newly fallen snow as they grow higher, higher and further; you can’t climb those, because you never managed to conquer him. What world do you live in, where the mountains shape a valley so deep you can’t escape? Love, you call it, and love you make it. The crimson on your knees is not blood, it’s love pouring over. Your dedication and admiration seeping through the cracks of your skin; you can’t contain it! You don’t love him, but you drink his love like water, sip it like it’s some sort of antidote meant to cure the obscure and crippling insecurity you’ve brewed within your chest; you don’t love him, but you know that you’d like to try, if not because you want to but because you have to.  Even if his love is a poison, you’d happily die trying.

your name is a river, body a temple and heart a hell . // b.b. (via benjaminbentley)