I’m still hoping that maybe one day I’ll get that drunk text from you saying how much you miss me. Not because I miss you, but because then I’d know that I did mean to you even a fraction of what you meant to me.
I tend to wonder, when I’m sitting in my favourite coffee shop looking out onto the street, about the stories of the people passing me by.
Have they ever truly fallen in love? And fallen out of it? Are they tending to a broken heart? Or are they desperately looking to love someone?
What is it that doesn’t let them sleep at night? And what is it that gives them comfort?
Are they trying to move on with their lives after a bad relationship? Or are they happily in love with someone? Do they feel more like the spring or like the autumn?
Are they falling in love? Or falling out of it? Or are they just trying to cope with life right now, without the burden of love?
Are they worried about their future? Or are they finally feeling content with their present after a long, hard fight to get there?
Is there someone or something that constantly haunts them, doesn’t leave their mind like their shadow doesn’t leave their body?
Are they happy? Are they sad? Are they in that ‘somewhere in between’?
life isn’t life without tragedy, and I wonder what theirs is // a.b
real love is not a sole passion or sky
it is bursts of color and wild fire
feeling connected through the soul and sigh
creation’s painting for those to desire
There is an endless count of stained skies
the love of the mind and not just the heart
one of clouds of sorrow with sparkling eyes
alluring in their own beauty and art
the sun always leaves, but in brilliant ways
each sky darkening, world hard to observe
yet stars remain, an eternal dark haze
deemed as dreary, given not what deserved
the dark of night and the shine of the sun
love contains every element, not one
I cry for you,
If only you knew.
Every single night,
I spend waiting.
Hoping that tomorrow ,
Will take away the sorrows.
When you’re in my dreams,
I never want to leave.
As I open my eyes,
The reality hits me.
Maybe some day,
You’ll take away,
The pain that kills.
And listen to what,
I have to say.
‘Cause you’re the only one.
The one, who understands.
People are poison, people are toxic.
They are murderers and oppressors.
People take, and people don’t give back.
They are thieves of cultures and lands.
People are selfish, people are only good for disappointments.
love is so closely bonded with anger. warm smiles soon replaced by fury. but often the hatred is not for the person them self. love gives a person the opportunity to crush your heart into smithereens. anger means they took it, creating shards that cause wounds a lifetime can barely heal.
Take it day by day sweetheart, it’ll get easier to live without him each day. And that’s how you’ll be okay.”
“But is it ever going to get easier to live with myself? What is the definition of okay anyway? Is it drowning the memories into whiskey bottles? Is it looking at blank walls just to try to distract yourself but somehow you realize the wall you’re staring at is his favorite color. Is it just ignoring the feeling that your chest is caving in? Is it pretending that you can breathe? Is it avoiding any and all emotions because you know the minute you let it in; it will crash into you like a wave and drown you. Is that what it’s like to be “okay” after a heartbreak? If it is, then I’m perfectly fine.
There were times in my life when I wanted to peel off every part of me that you ever touched because it felt like I could never forget the venom you left behind.
But I looked through some old pictures today and I realised just how insignificant you are, how none of my favourite pictures or memories have even a single trace of you. I told myself before that I would never waste ink writing about you again, but then I’m realising that that would give you the power I no longer want you to have over me. So here I am, writing these words that feel like the venom is finally dripping off my skin, melting away under the ink and the hatred I feel for you; because believe me I would trade that venom for hatred in a heartbeat.
i don’t remember the date anymore, i won’t remember the month in a while, and soon enough, i won’t even remember your face. But i hope to whatever force is out there in the universe, if there’s any force at all, that my memories haunt your dreams for a long time // a.b