holding on

a piece of me
still loves you,

a part of me
still holds onto us.
unable to let go,
unable to clear my mind of you.
unable to peel off your name
that’s engraved in my heart
and the heaviness that follows with every letter that falls
all the memories
and all the laughter.

All the love.

Not wanting to cut the cord that
connects me with you
Not wanting to forget
the way you used to look at me
and the butterflies that made it hard to breathe
but helped me learn to fly again.


Not willing to let go of the map that leads to you
cause our paths were meant to intersect

I ran in the opposite direction but
Everything leads back to you,
and the way you kissed me that night.

My first kiss, my first love.
More than anything
wanting you to be my last.

But this time seems like the last,

I need to let you go
because you already did
you
are not there
you
are not here
and I need to remind my heart
that
you
are not
mine
anymore.

—  a stained heart | 02.15.14 | (this-wastedlove)
And I don’t say it, but I can’t help but to think that she might never find what she’s looking for. She’s always laughing just a little too loud, or answering just a little too quickly, or holding onto things that she should’ve let go of years ago….She is so thirsty for love that she drowns in it every time.
—  Poetry At Most
i decided to love you,
through all the changes,
all the unreciprocated things.
i decided to hand you
the knife even it stabs me
a million times.
i decided to love you,
in a million different ways.
because it’s always
been you, love.
—  her (MIS); loving, breaking
I imagine that to others, we appeared like a knot. We were messy and dysfunctional, and constantly tangled up in each other. Our limbs, our emotions, our lives. I was always trying to smooth out the rougher parts of you and you were trying to untangle the disaster that my life was becoming. I don’t know how we became so caught up in each other, but my God I was never happier to bend and twist myself around the prospect of someone’s happiness.
—  Clinging onto a dead love will only bring out a pair of scissors.
You chose her. You married her. You have a kid with her. So why is it when you’re lying in bed awake at 3:00 am I’m the one you call. Why is it that when you’ve had a rough day my number is the first you dial just waiting for me to say “Hi Prince.” You left me for her so why is it that you still have my pictures saved and even after 5 years of being apart you’ve still managed to hold on to them. You’re with her so why is it that every year on my birthday at 12:00 am you’re the first to say “Happy Birthday.” You’re married to her so why is it that when we both walk past you, your eyes linger on me. Why did you choose her if you love me?
— 

Excerpts from the book I’ll never write #350

01/31/2017

8:10 pm