in the aftermath of things, you never did come after me. we didn’t waste time with hopeful antics, never said goodbye. you just woke up one day and decided I wasn’t what you wanted and two weeks later I pulled myself out of bed to live and breathe in a world where I don’t end up with you. the realization that I could have never been what you needed- hurts. but I also know that the things meant to happen for me, will always find a way. when you didn’t call, when you didn’t fight for me, I realized there was no point in stepping foot out onto a battlefield where I’m outnumbered. and so I didn’t. i sold myself to the idea that I’m better without you until I started to believe in it. and today, I believe in it whole heartedly. it took me a long time to get here and maybe I could never get back who I was on the day I loved you the most, but I also know that better things are coming. and I’m finally brave enough to open my arms for new beginnings.

You look at me and there isn’t anything left for you to say.
Because really, what more could be said?
I know you don’t love me.
I know that.
I know that.
So when silence fills the room,
I don’t try to fight it.
I let it linger and you hold up your fingertips to it, try to make out something of what is left.
Didn’t they ever tell you that you can’t make something out of nothing?
Either way, I pretend not to notice.
I take the weight of not being loved like I deserve and I don’t say anything else.
I don’t try to fix anything.
I don’t waste time being hopeful.
I don’t ask you to be friends.
I don’t promise to keep in touch.
I let you leave and I let the high hopes for the future fall all around us.
Even then, it doesn’t break the silence.
I don’t expect it to.
—  I don’t expect it to / @thewordsyouneverunderstood

I still miss you but it’s not the same anymore. I won’t call and I refuse to let my hands reach out for you because I have learned the hard way that you are not a place I can rest upon. You were never a safe place for me to reside in and there was nothing sacred about the way you disarmed me if it was only for your convenience. I became soft for you. I lost my fear of stepping out into the open and I did it for you. I never should have. I should have retrieved my heart on the day where all the casualties began to pile up on my side of the battlefield. And even then, in the death of everything good that I used to be, I still found ways to love you. Maybe they weren’t always good. But I did my best. Even from here, years after the soil has forgotten all the blood I spilled there, I am still loving you in the only way I know how- with my hands at my side, a phone call log that doesn’t remember your phone number and a heart that still loves you but has grown too tired to try to make a home amidst your war zone.

I heard you’re seeing someone new.

Last night, they asked me if we were still friends. I said no, because that’s the truth. It never worked out.
That’s when I learned about her.
I saw the pictures and you’re holding her hand in most of them and you two seem to fit together perfectly.
I really wanted to be angry but I couldn’t really find those feelings in myself. Instead I felt happy, and loosing you, stopped feeling like a loss.
I guess what I’m trying to say is that, I’m happy because you’ve finally let yourself love something that wouldn’t be the end of you. You finally stepped out in the open, to meet her somewhere in the middle and I’m happy because it’s what your mother would have wanted. She would have loved to see it, you there in the open, with all that bravery of yours, of hers.
I know your mother would have been very proud of you. She is proud of you, even from up there.
I’m happy because you deserve love like that and she’s handing it to you, like it’s all she has.
I hope that somewhere you find yourself thinking that you should have done this all much sooner, I hope that somewhere you find yourself thinking that some things are worth bleeding for. I hope you tell yourself that love is always going to be one of them.

—  I Heard You’re Seeing Someone New // thewordsyouneverunderstood
After the heartbreak, I promised to never be that girl again.
I fulfilled the cliche-
I cut my hair short.
Something to mark a new beginning.
I got a tattoo with no real significance.
Most things in life don’t make sense anyways.
I moved further away from my parents and it was more than a metaphor.
I’ve learned that life is harder without the people who love you and returned to sleep in the bed that held me far longer than you ever did.
I don’t miss you anymore.
You still act weird around me, sit in the corner of a room and pretend that I do not exist.
Some days it feels as if I don’t.
There is no one here to love me like I deserve to be loved.
My voice is still not loud enough to be heard over all the background noise.
My friends are fixated on superficial things.
A love that doesn’t last.
A party last weekend where they fooled themselves into thinking alcohol tastes better when you are hurting and fell asleep on the couch of a stranger.
This is a measurement of how much ache we fail to acknowledge.
How many things we kick underneath our doormats just to prove that there is a way to keep moving forward.
If there is a way to keep moving forward,
for me, it has never looked like this.
We don’t speak in two years and when we finally do, your concern for my well being echoes off the walls.
So you see my heartache as a living breathing thing.
You make a point of looking at my hands for evidence of everything I have stubbornly refused to let go of.
That you don’t love me anymore.
That whatever we had is over.
That the world we shared, has evolved since then.
That instead I have been waking up in one where we don’t end up together. the only thing i tell you is this,
‘you’ve got to stop reading my poems’
—  stop reading my poems

By now you’ve probably realized that I’ve stepped outside of your door into a world where I don’t end up with you. And nothing was harder that having to drag my feet places they didn’t want to go. I never wanted to live and breathe in a world I didn’t get to share with you. And in the aftermath of everything we were, I woke to the realization that I could have never been meant for you. After all our hands never fit together the way I wanted them too. And you never cared enough to read my poems, not even the ones that were about you. At the end of it all, you kept your word in saying that you had not yet learned how to love anything. I should have believed you then. I should have left the morning after you decided my body should come without emotional baggage. And yet I did not. I let you touch me in all the ways you wanted. I became woman enough for you to touch and sunk back into myself on the days when you decided I was too hard to love. I tried to make myself smaller for you. I became less vocal, started to shift my weight towards that of a woman who gave everything to a man who didn’t deserve any of it. And I am sorry for how much I gave to you. I am sorry for the way your bones crushed beneath the weight of all the things I wished we’d become. I am sorry for loving you at a time where it was not what your hands were reaching for. I don’t blame you for it because you were honest from the beginning about all of the ache in your upbringing and I should have listened. I should have hushed the voice of that naive girl who wanted to fix all you broken. Most of all, I am sorry for not leaving sooner. For trying to mold you into someone ready to commit. For trying to make you want the same things out of this as I did because it turns out- we were never on the same page. Your hands were just looking for a place to rest upon, they were never looking for a love to hold on to.

There was so much in me that wanted to bury myself beneath the heavy burden of losing you. The other part of me refuses to keep letting you have the best of me.
You have had the best of me.
You kissed me at a time where I had begun to let my heart grow new, stronger roots.
You held me at a time where I wasn’t afraid anymore.
You witnessed me for the woman I was- brave, or naive, whichever aligns best with the version of me that was always casting herself off ledges to keep you.
I stepped out of who I was in order to become someone you could fall in love with.
In the near future.
And we never quite made it there.
And I finally understand why roadblocks exist.
We were never meant to fall in love with each other.
You were just meant to remind me that there is still so much room left in my heart for beautiful things to happen.
You were the one to whom I opened up my heart to, a reminder that I still could.
And I was the girl who helped you believe in the idea that there was still someone out there left in the world who loved you in spite of everything ugly you could become.
I was the girl who put her world at your feet, the girl who reminded you of all the different ways you could love a person.
Because at the end of the day- some part of me loved you. Some part of me still does.
But I also know that we aren’t the right people for each other. I learned that the hard way but still a lesson well learned.
Because you’re happy in your existence alongside hers and because I haven’t let bad love turn me inside out. Because there is still so much of me that keeps trying, and living, and loving.

I don’t hate you. I’m not angered or bitter about the way we put an ending to the things we shared. I just feel hurt. More than I’m ever going to openly admit to you. But as much as it hurts now, I know that I will get to a day where it doesn’t matter anymore. I will get to a day where I bid you farewell and keep you away in a place where you can’t hurt me anymore. That’s a place I want to reside in. A safe place. A place where my heart isn’t freefalling into the pit of my stomach for you. A place where I can heal at my own pace and stop worrying about all the ways in which you’ve mastered the act of moving on before me. It feels like a contest. Who can forget quicker and you are winning at that. I am tired of dragging my feet towards places where my knees only know how to grow weak. I am tired of fighting you. I don’t want to fight you anymore in this. I have loved you and I have lost you but in some strange ways, I have won. I am braver than I was before, more resilient about love, less naive than I used to be, less scared because I know that heartache isn’t something people die from. I’m not afraid of trying again. Someday I will.

On your birthday, I don’t call.
I know I said I would.
Add that on to the list of promises I’ve made that I did not keep.
I couldn’t.
Because you’ve fallen in love with a girl who’s dedicated more of her existence to you than I ever could and because I’m in the process of falling in love with someone who deserves it.
and neither one of us needs that kind of reminder anymore.
life is happening like it’s supposed to.
and we’re not in the business of digging up the past just to prove that we have survived. that is something worth celebrating.
happy 21st.

we expect the love of others to heal everything that’s broken about us and that’s where we meet the fault line. you can not place that kind of expectation upon others, much less on the love they give to you. and you don’t need someone who wears the cape for you. you don’t need someone who takes you in for their own fulfillment. you don’t need someone who mistakes you for something that needs saving. you are a whole person on your own. do not look to a love that expects to heal all your wounds. instead find the lover that understands them, the lover that doesn’t try to play the superhero, the lover that stands beside you as you bloom into everything you’ve ever been meant to be and refuses to take credit for any of it because they recognize that you have always been worth the love and adoration even on your hard days. stand by the lover that knows you are not more because of them.


why the fuck can’t I stop dreaming about you? a stranger i fell in love with. someone i never knew anything about. someone i still found ways to love in all the uncharted. all the unknown.


there is no easy way to say it. i guess i knew this would happen. that we would get to a day where the distance between us was something we were both tired of trying to overcome. i just never envisioned it being this way. ending like this.


a lot of the time i’m not sure what to tell them about you. you know, when they ask. something less than a boyfriend. but a lover that pressed hands against skin. something holy. not always a good place to be in.


even though you really hurt me, when i hear the news, i learn how to be happy about it. so you finally learned how to love something. and I finally learned how to love you from here, far away, from a place that only ever knows how to wish you well.


i don’t know that there’s much to say about you. or about us. we shared small moments. yet important ones. and i loved you. and although you did not, i have the certainty that if i died today, you’d show up to the funeral. that has to count for something.

we began to fail at the smaller things.
like the time we went ice skating and realized that the imbalances in our lives weren’t just metaphorical.
you weren’t happy.
and I had given up hope in trying to be your safe place.
so we argued a lot.
mostly about stupid things.
then the importance of the wars we fought against each other only grew more significant in time.
you started lying, unintentionally perhaps, because you didn’t want to hurt me so you never told me about the day you ran into your ex girlfriend and decided to run around the city.
it wouldn’t have meant anything if you had told me.
and you didn’t.
eventually i found out.
and in my attempt to feel less hurt, i fell in love with someone else.
and i am sorry for how long it took for me to say that.
i am sorry for the both of us and how much we failed to realize.
the truth is, we should have known.
because there came a time where you stopped calling and i wouldn’t hold your hand.
we overlooked these smaller things because even in the moments we were bad to each other, you wanted it to work as much as i did.
after all, it was you i shared dreams with.
we talked about marrying each other and never waking up beside other people.
eventually we did.
in time we ran out of dreams and the hope we harvested was left out in the rain for too long.
i am sorry that we weren’t kind to each other.
we should have been.
if i could go back in time, i would tell you this:
i may not love you anymore but there was a day where i did. thank you for trying as best as you could to love me in a way i was able to recognize. thank you for loving me in all my crookedness. thank you for being the one to share this with me.
—  @thewordsyouneverunderstood , things I would have said to you

To the girl I was back in high school:

I know you feel that you’ve wasted a lot of your youth on people and things that today don’t hold any real significance in your life.
You fought against the world for those you loved and in the end there still was not enough room for them. So they went on with their lives and in your own ways, you did too.
You fell in love at fourteen and convinced yourself that you were placed on this earth to love him above all else.
And so you did.
By the time it was over, you had tied too much of your existence to his and the days felt longer without him.
This was the first war you fought with the world.
At sixteen you fell in love again with a boy who sincerely and genuinely loved you.
Even then it wasnt enough for you to stay.
And for the first time the heartbreak wasn’t yours.
It doesn’t make you selfish to have chosen yourself over love. over him.
and so at sixteen you learned about sacrifice.
know that even in a world where you don’t end up together, it will always be worth something.
I know you lost a lot of people along the way and your life continuously feels emptier without them but think of all the room left for hope and change.
because better things are coming even those things you’ve always thought yourself undeserving of.
someone loved you then.
someone loves you now, someone always will.
don’t you ever let yourself forget it.
you’re going to fall in love again sometime in the near future.
you’ll finish college and have children.
I know you worry that you don’t have what it takes but nobody ever thinks they do.
I know right now the people who should be closest to you keep growing further away and I know it hurts more than you’re willing to admit but someday you will understand that some people are better loved from afar.
your parents aren’t better loved from afar and regardless of what you think they will always love you even if they forget to tell you sometimes.
at eighteen the world is a place you aren’t sure you want to live in but you will survive. you will win all of the battles you are fighting someday. and all things, like a work of magic, will fall into place. You’ve just got to believe in it.

Years later I will learn the truth about your anger.
How you never expected me to be strong enough to leave you.
How you told your friends about it and they too wanted to believe in the idea that I was something to be kept. That I could be, at the least.

You used to think of me as the closest to heaven you’d ever be.
You painted me in soft shades of yellow with light cascading like waterfalls from the roots of my hairline to the ground beneath my feet and I deserved it. I was good to you above all things- through the terror and the way in which your love was far from kind sometimes. My skin never looked thicker when it healed and still I forgave you for it. I started replacing the word abuse with love in my sentences and you were proud of me for it. When my fingertips felt inclined to point somewhere you used your hands as a compass and they always led back to myself.

Through the terror that came from loving you, I still did it well enough for you to never forget about it.
And you never expected me to be strong enough to leave you.
In my attempt to be the soft, fragile, full of light woman you learned to tear apart- I settled for your excuses.
You were angry.
You had a bad day.
In my attempt to be the same woman you cautiously placed your belief in- I never did leave. I never could leave.
Physically, I removed myself from your doorframe, wiped my fingerprints off your doorknob, hushed my voice from apologizing for crimes I did not commit.
Emotionally, I am stuck in a revolving door.
The nightmares haven’t stopped.

Years later I will come to learn that the difference between abuse and love is a blurred line sometimes.
Years later I will reflect and think to myself about all the ways in which I loved you far and beyond what you deserved.
Years later the ghost of the man who broke down my walls in all the wrong ways will fall asleep beside me as a reminder of the uphill battles I’ve fought in this life.

I loved you more than you deserved.
I should have loved me instead.

—  Abuse vs. Love // @thewordsyouneverunderstood

my heart is no longer heavy from all the things I could not keep and wanted to. i learn that what is meant to be, always finds a way. it was supposed to happen like this. destiny. it was written somewhere in stone that i’d fall in love with you. without knowing from where or why. it would just happen. and then it did. and although you never learned to hold me like I needed for you too- you were honest. you could have never loved me. and i needed that. because you made room in my heart for love, because the part of me that still believes in loving a person has not died off yet. it was supposed to happen like this. i was supposed to lose you. you were not born the man i’d spend the rest of my life with, but you were born the boy who’d teach me that’s it’s possible to start over in your same home country. as it turns out, this heart is still mine even if it’s loving the wrong people.
anyways, i want to say thank you.
thank you for leaving me when you did.
thank you for leaving behind all that room for beautiful things to happen.
beautiful things have happened since then.
this new love, stronger love, is one of them.

I used to talk about marrying you and sharing the rest of my life with you and you too believed in it. 
How funny it seems now to think that there was a time when we believed we’d always have each other.
I was just thinking about it the other day. I drove past your house and I couldn’t help but ask myself where it is that we went wrong. I tried to pinpoint the exact moment in which we stopped believing in the idea of time. I tried to pinpoint the exact moment in which we reached inside our pockets, and found that we had run out of it.
Did your pockets have holes or did I just spend it on all the wrong things? 
I guess we’ll never know for sure but thinking of all the promises we made to each other, makes me smile. I guess I just wanted you to know that. I want you to know that even though we didn’t make it in this world, we tried our best and that makes me feel a little less sad, to think that we loved each other enough to believe we were made for one another.
Although, if I dare to admit, I was really sad for a long time after you left. I couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that we would never make a home out of a house, well at least not together and it made me even sadder to think that we’d never have a family together, that we’d never get to have a daughter with your eyes and my smile, and that we’d never get to name her Autumn.
But as time passed, and it is true that it heals. I found myself comforted by the simple idea that we made each other much better people, that we shared firsts and seconds and thirds and most of all, lasts.
I am happy and I hope that you are too, and I hope that you are being loved like you deserve most of all.
—  “Nothing will ever come between us, because I’ll be standing right next to you.” // thewordsyouneverunderstood
We’re sitting around a circle talking about the worst thing we’ve ever done.
When it’s my turn to tell the story- I lie.
I don’t tell them about your 60 missed calls and the 12 text messages in which you begged me to fight for love as much as you were willing to die for it.
I don’t tell them that I kissed your bestfriend a week after I asked you to never call again or that when you found out, you didn’t hear it from me. I forget to tell the part where you lose who you are over me for some time. How you pick up your old habits. How you started drinking on the weekends and how they turned to weekdays. I don’t even tell them that I never apologized and I don’t talk about how I never looked back. I skip the part where you swore to yourself that you’d never love anyone else like me because it’s not the kind of story I want to tell.
Because when they ask me about the worst thing I have ever done, it always comes back to you.
I wonder how you’re doing and if maybe you’ve found it in yourself to forgive me.
When they ask me about the worst thing I’ve ever done, I spare the time of the details. I jump to the biggest thing, I tell them that I wasn’t deserving of a love like that. That I destroyed the one person who loved me above anything else. I tell them that you set the world on fire for me and I looked the other way.
—  It’s you / @thewordsyouneverunderstood

He hates poetry as much as you do.
and neither of you have ever read any of my poems.

but still,
here is where I learn the difference between someone who is good with excuses and someone who doesn’t give up on trying.

you are good with excuses.
and he doesn’t give up trying.

so he hates poetry as much as you do.
and at the end of the day is still willing to sit through 152 minutes of it.

he says, anything to make you happy.
and in the small moments in between,
some part of him begins to understand what is important to me and why it is.

in retrospect, it is no wonder now why things between us came to an end.
you never really tried.
and on the other end, there I was alone trying to save anything that was left of our mediocre relationship.
if i can even call it that.

relationship might be too big of a title.
the commitment was never there.
on your side of the equation at least.

regardless, i am here to say thank you.
because in the battlefield of you, I learned that lovers are not meant to go to war with each other but beside each other.

and although he hates poetry just as much as you do. he doesn’t give up on trying.

that’s what love is.
not always easy.
but always worth it.

but it was not a mistake.
that collision between us.
how you came into my life and i made more room for you than necessary. more room than you could ever really take up.
my mother sells me on the idea that this is how it was supposed to happen. that there comes a time where things begin to make sense. come together in an effort to manifest something more beautiful than you could ever imagine.
five weeks after you’re gone, I instill belief in the idea that after all, this is how it was supposed to happen.
we were supposed to intertwine our lives in the only way we knew how.
all those phone calls.
the text message thread in which I first mentioned a future in which we’d end up together.
the fallout.
how you had a new girl in your bed the same night you broke my heart.
how i cried all the way home that night and began to move my feet towards the door.
and how eventually in time, i grew strong enough to leave you.

last night at the diner table, I came to the realization that this is how it was supposed to happen. you served your purpose. you opened up my heart, gave me enough to grow hopeful again. and then, you were on your way.
and it has begun to make sense.
so this is to say thank you.
thank you for arriving when you did and leaving when you were supposed to.
for not dragging out your stay.
for not ruining all the good you brought out of me.
for leaving me while my love was still good.