and if you ever miss me,
I hope you scream at the stars
for not granting your wish,
and you swear at the moon for
not bringing me closer to you,
and you curse at the sun
because you can’t see what I’ve become -
you were always so good at
hiding your emotions
but if you ever miss me,
I hope you have the guts
to let the universe know.
if you ever miss me,
I hope somehow you manage
to let me go.
It wasn’t the same as with
other people. When I lost you, I mean.
It wasn’t the same.
Because, when I lost you
my heart scarred in all of the
places you had touched it. Every
pretty word you’d said to me
became ugly, every laugh I had laughed
for you was replaced with staring
at the wall for an hour, wondering if
I was dreaming. When I lost you,
I thought that maybe I hadn’t lost you
at all. I thought you’d pick up the
phone and call, or at least send a message.
When I lost you, I lost a piece of myself.
Because, you came into my life with a bang,
changing the way I viewed
people, and city lights, and stars,
and everything. And losing someone
who changes everything hurts.
It more than hurts. It turns feet into
heavy blocks that you can’t lift for days,
and it makes your lips so sore
that you won’t open them to speak.
But when I lost you, I missed
you, and I hated you, and it hurt
so much I couldn’t even cry.
But it’s okay.
When I lost you, I lost a piece
of myself, but new pieces have grown
in its place, and it’s okay.
I remember staring at
the rain and watching the lightning
as my heart beat as loud as
thunder. You created
a storm inside of me that has
never quite died out. You
said you’d never leave me and
I guess you never did.
I love you. Not in the same way I used to, but I always will in some way or another, I’m sure. You hurt me. You really hurt me on that day and I remember telling you that you had never hurt me before then, and I think that felt true.
But half a year later, with a (slightly) clearer head, I’m able to look back and realise that it wasn’t the first time you hurt me. I’m sure it wasn’t the first time I hurt you either. I loved you.
I loved you in that weightlessly falling, can’t wait for you to catch me, feels like I’m dreaming kind of way. It makes me nauseous to think about it sometimes.
But I loved you and I loved you and I loved you, even though my love came in broken pieces. You deserved more than that. I deserved more than that.
We deserved more than broken pieces that would never quite fit together. And I don’t know whether you were my soul mate and we messed with the fates, or whether you were here to show me all the different ways a person can love. But I know that you were far, far more than nothing, and I will always remember you.
I’ve been trying not to write about you because you make me sad, but I think that if I don’t, I’ll start wanting things I’ll later regret. It makes no sense to me how badly I cling to the way you wrote about my eyes when you also wrote words that made me cry. It makes no sense that I still can’t look at your name without hating myself sometimes, when you always felt as if you could walk in and out of my life. With the way you left me, you’d think I’d have moved on by now, but there are times when it hits me so vigorously I can’t move; I was never a constant to you. I’ve always believed you should never put your trust into other people, because they’ll turn around with a wicked smile, and they’ll crush you till you can’t be repaired. Maybe it’s true that no one else can break you. Maybe I did it all by myself. But either way, I put my trust in you and you left it shattered on the floor. It’s been gathering dust. And you, like a book left unopened on a shelf so high up, you’re gathering dust, too. And maybe sometimes I’m tempted to delve back into your pages, but I think overall I’d rather not. I shouldn’t have let you affect me like this. But it’ll be okay. You’re gathering dust and I’ll be fine with that someday.
I guess I hated you
‘cause you were right
I was waiting for you
to leave, and I
resented you so much
when you finally
did, because you were
so right. I’d been
waiting for it, seen it coming,
and maybe I still
cried and maybe my
heart wasn’t whole afterwards
and maybe I missed you
more than I’d ever missed
anyone before, but
I still hated that you were
right. God, you were
right about me.
you knew I’d be broken,
but you knew I’d be
okay someday. you always
knew. you were right.
you were so right.
I wanted to tell you about the
fluttering of my heart when I first heard
your voice but I didn’t
want you to pass me off as
an overly hopeless romantic who
believed feeling butterflies was
the first step in the road towards marriage.
And I wanted to tell you I couldn’t breathe
when you weren’t talking to me
but I had always sworn to myself that
I wouldn’t become dependant on
anyone or anything, and saying that
you helped me breathe made me feel so
weak that I began to hate myself.
I wanted to make a list of all the things
I loved about you and write it
into a cliché song or poem with a witty
title but I realised I had written
so many songs and poems about
you that maybe you’d realise how much
I feared losing you and you’d use it against me.
I wanted to be my best when I was
around you but somehow you brought out
my weaknesses and when you told
me we all have some darkness
within us, I looked at you and thought
you must’ve been lying, because
you were sitting right in front of me and all
that came from you was light.
I wanted to be your everything but
I was just the reflection of the moon on
your bedroom window, the way you wished
you felt when you woke up from a long sleep,
the hope that distance would one day
cease to exist, and that was more
than I ever could’ve hoped to be, but
somehow, it was not enough.
we are holding hands,
our separate universes coming
together. and how strange
it is to think of our souls, in our
bodies, connected by this
touch. the way your thumb rubs
the back of my hand; i squeeze
a little tighter. your universe
is one i want to get to know. the
pieces of you that make up
a whole. the way rose petals
look through your eyes.
we are looking through a lens
at the stars, and you are
telling me they are beautiful,
and you are telling me that
you see me as that one, right
up there. and our universes
haven’t let go of each other’s
I say, “it’s nice to meet you,” and before I know it, we’re talking about the stars and naming ours and you’re my first and last thought of the day, just a text away, and I love you I love you I love you.
You say, “this is who I am,” and I call it beautiful, because you are; but we all have ugliness lurking inside of us. Yours tries to kill you from the outside in, tries to cut at your skin. I think our ugliness looks a lot alike. I think I know you a lot better than you’re willing to admit. You try to keep your mouth shut.
We say, “the universe looks a lot like a service station.” What we mean is that sometimes when we’re tired, we like to stop between the constellations and catch our breath for a moment. What we mean is that sometimes the constant journeying in this world can become unbearable. What we mean is that even people like us — red-eyed and sleep-deprived, making it through these battles with barely a scratch — need a break from this life sometimes.
the universe looks like a service station // r.e.s
I hope you find someone who loves you
with every inch of their own swollen heart,
and I hope with everything that I have
that they never tear you apart.
because I was frozen in a moment in time
of the very first moment your heart felt like mine,
and I guess when two hearts come together,
it feels like you’re letting half of yourself go.
so, I hope you find someone who loves you
with every part of their own messed up soul,
and I hope with everything that I have
that you have the guts to never let them go.
You have a heart that is full
but is missing quite a lot
and when people say they love you
you still think they can not.
Is it a bad habit,
to keep on hating yourself?
Or is it a constant thought, or
an ode to your health?
Do you feel emptier with
each tick of the clock?
With the chance of feeling something,
do you turn yourself off?
You have a heart that is empty
but still holds quite a lot.
It’s just, your heart doesn’t feel like home,
but more of a rest stop.