I think the worst thing about being in love is being so damn vulnerable to their actions. It’s when things go wrong and they use your weaknesses to bring you down. It’s the control they have over your feelings. It’s when they crush you piece by piece, agonise you not in the blink of an eye but for as long as the tears flow. Its when you’re sitting in bed all alone drenched in tears and wondering where you went wrong. What’s just a little joke to them shakes your whole damn world. In the end all they do is say a meaningless sorry and there you are running back to them. Thats the worst part; the vulnerability of love.
I know it’s selfish to ask you to stay
When I’m the only thing
You’d stay for.
But I, in all my greed,
Want nothing more
Than to demand you never leave.
And I know you, with your pity and sympathy,
Would mourn your choice,
But make it all the same.
i am just a girl in love,
who has a lot of hidden wounds,
but doesn’t give up,
on herself because something,
which only i can see,
when i look into your eyes,
tells me each time,
holding your hand,
and that’s why.
I’m in love with the moon. She’s bright in the darkest corners of my mind. She’s beautiful in the night sky when all of the stars bow down to her. Gently her words wash over me like waves when it feels like the whole world is crashing down on me. With gravity holding me hostage to the ground, her light radiates and can easily make me feel like I’m flying. She’s everything that my heart desires. That’s why I’m in love with her..
On our first date, I told you I was flighty. Impatient. Easily bored.
I don’t paint my nails because I can never sit still long enough
for even one coat to dry. I don’t fold my laundry because I hate the routine. I would rather buy new cutlery than wash my old ones.
Maybe I’m lazy. Maybe I have no motivation. Maybe I’m just looking for somebody to grab my shoulders and give me a shake and explain what normal is and why I should do it. But sometimes I brush my teeth for seven minutes straight because it just feels right. Some nights
I put my pillow on the opposite end of the bed because I’m still hopeful that I’ll wake up differently if I sleep differently. I never do.
Sometimes I forget that I’m reading in the middle of flipping a page,
instead struck by the thought we would rather make paper than oxygen, would rather have one less life-source than one less novel. I wonder about priorities. I wonder about people who think it’s necessary to match their socks when they leave the house every morning as if that’s what determines their character. I wonder about people who carry around purses that contain nothing but gum. I wonder about people who spend all their hours at a desk and then return to their house to pass the night alone in a cold bed with a frozen dinner. I wonder if they think that money will make them happier than other humans. I don’t like kissing when I have lipstick on, because I’m afraid of leaving a stain on a cheek, as if I’m marking my territory somewhere I don’t belong, as if I’m trespassing on camera. I stay up for twenty hours a day and spend the other fours hours knowing that the longest a person can stay alive without sleep is ten days. I wonder if my nervous system has begun to break down, leaving me nervous and broken along with it. I don’t understand the pills the doctors prescribed me even though they told me I was just upset over being broken up with. I told them I wasn’t upset, I was morose. I was downtrodden. I was a leaky ship; still afloat but getting lower under the weight of the water every second. I didn’t want to sink. I wanted to sail. But they didn’t tell me that the happy little green and white pills would make me plateau. On our first date, I said I felt flat. Not the kind of flat of calm water on a windless day, but the kind of flat that you associate with deflated balloons. All out of air or out of breath or struggling to find any words left. I felt like the kind of flat that musicians hate. That I hate and I can’t play a single instrument. On our first date, I think I told you I would understand if you didn’t stay. Nobody did and I never blamed them. I was too busy wondering about people who believed in numbers and the healing power of yoga on 3 a.m mornings and tying their shoes without kneeling down to notice when they left. I am stuck inside of a world that I don’t quite understand, with people I never seem to connect with.
please don’t hate me when I tell you
that I need attention
a lot of it
and I know you tell me that I’ve gotta believe you
that I’m yours and you’re mine
but you have to understand that these silences
are the times I got left behind in the cold
the greater the distance
the less they loved me
slowly they all faded away
and maybe you just don’t have a lot to say all the time
and you tell me I’m always on your mind
but I wasn’t on their minds
and while you’re eating dinner
and folding your laundry
and drinking your wine
and taking a bath
they were busy finding ways to erase me
I’m needy because I need to know you’re still here
He is not a fucking miracle. Stop waiting for him to happen. He is not going to change just because you write him down in poetry. Maybe he is another language you haven’t heard about, and you’ve tried to let him play on your tongue but he leaves you with un ugly scar and the taste of loneliness for you to vomit it. And maybe he loves you but he is not your fucking miracle. Do not waste your time praying to God cause he is not the lightning that will hit you in the middle of the night when you crave his hands around your hips. You want him so bad but he is not your fucking miracle.
Miracles do not happen for boys like him.
She Slapped Me And Said: He’s Not A Fucking Miracle by Royla Asghar
I really am pathetic, no one has ever loved me deeply enough for it to be considered intimate and I’m feeling sorry for myself because of that. Fuck I’m just so sick of this; I eat alone, I sleep alone, I cry alone. What the hell is wrong with me, why can’t I just get over stuff and not give a fuck. I keep saying I don’t care but I do. Fucking hell, I do. I keep saying I don’t give a damn but I do. Whatever diety that existed knows I really do. I’m still human. I still feel. I still hurt and all that crap and I know it’s selfish but I really wish you could see that.
Me (JNH). Once again I’m alone with my thoughts and they’re as beastly as ever.
as i sat beside you
and traced the veins along your arms like road maps with detours to places i have yet to be.
i realized that you are no longer home,
you’ve burned yourself to the ground
and i watched as the roof shingles fell to the ground like your face in your hands when things got hard to deal with.
how many times did i have to rebuild you before constructions signs were as permanent as the tattoos on my fathers arms
i looked into your eyes and saw the foundation i’ve built myself upon has grown shaky and thin.
i wondered why you let me slip but it seems as if the foundation you’ve built had termites and water damage and yet you still built on things that you couldn’t hold.
when you wrapped your hands around my waist to give my soul the love you couldn’t feed yourself
i felt your nails dig in my hips
but my love what are you digging for?
i forgave harsh words wrapped around a tongue meant for love
tongues have no bones but can still break a heart
after all i understand where all this anger came from.
i’d be angry too with floorboards in my back and doornails between my teeth.
i forgave you for your crooked smile that gave away your intentions before your mouth could even open.
i tried so hard to rebuild a home with a shaky foundations, whose owner never opened the windows to take a breath of fresh air, only his recycled thoughts and disbeliefs.
but why on earth would you tear me down
when all i tried to do was fix this home.
i broke walls for you to build news ones, opened windows to let in new light but your hands were shutters wrapped around my neck and you couldn’t stand sunshine.
and when you realized this home was too much maintenance,
you slept with the neighbor and called me from a payphone to tell me that this was too much work and that loving me was a mistake
but i forgave you,
and now this homes abandoned and the previous owners left the lights on.
I fell in love with you, The way People did back in the 40’s.
Little by little Then All at once Then Everything Else just Became Lovable.
I fell in love with your smile, As it Lit up the road as we drove from Point A to Point B.
I fell in love with your laugh, because it echos across the world and comes right back to me.
I fell in love with the way you grip the steering wheel, as you get nervous driving on the highway.
I fell in love with the way you look at me and As you look back at the road I can hear your thoughts about me.
I fell in love with your fingertips running across my forehead brushing my hair out of my face.
I fell in love with the way you say my name, and as much as I hate my name you make me love it so much.
I fell in love with the way you stare at me and tell me how amazed you are that you found me.
I fell in love with the way you have to fall asleep touching a part of me, Even if its just your finger tip on my side.
I fell in love with the way you chase the light in my eyes.
I fell in love with your eyes, and how they say so much.
I fell in love with your lips and how they look and feel like home.
I fell in love with your hugs and how I can feel and see the future with you.
I fell in love with the way you tell me everything.
I fell in love with your sailor mouth, and how you laugh when I curse.
I fell in love with how I can talk about work and you actually respond in a way that no guy has ever.
I fell in love with your tattoo, because it show that you just don’t care what people say.
I fell in love with the way you amaze me everyday, with all the support you give me.
I fell in love with your hair, and how it sticks up in the back.
I fell in love with your perfect smile and how you raise your eyebrows at me, and call me crazy.
I fell in love with the way you only slept an hour with me that night we first held each other.
I fell in love with your ability to love me even when I’m stupid and trying to tell you're completely wrong even though I know you’re right.
I fell in love with your funny birthmarks.
I fell in love with your ridiculous thoughts when you’re deprived from sleep.
I fell in love with your arms and how they wrap around my body perfectly.
I fell in love with the way you look at me like I’m the entire universe to you.
I fell in love with your funny tickle spots, and how you laugh at everything I say.
I fell in love with the way you always ask if I’m okay, or if I’m sick.
I fell in love with the way you kiss me and how each and every time you make me feel like I’m flying.
I fell in love with the way you beat on the steering wheel like it’s a drum when you’re listening to hardcore music, and how you try to do the deep scream or growls.
I fell in love with the you kiss or rub my forehead or the back of my hand randomly or any bone that hurts.
I fell in love with you, The way you fell in love with me.
As soon as I met you I just knew..
When I saw you, I knew I was going to love you.
Parts of me were afraid,
But never resistant.
The rest of me breathed you in
And sighed with relief.
The rest of me thought,
When I kissed you, I thought,
“Maybe God IS real.”
Because your skin made me want to sing hymns.
Because your caress was a blessing, a baptism.
Because there was no way
You were created just as simply as I had been.
Created as a universe’s afterthought.
You were planned.
Something out there saw the terrifying beauty of our cosmos
And put them in your eyes.
And it said,
“This… This is my masterpiece.”
An I couldn’t agree more.
In ninth grade,
I got ready for my first date.
My friends surrounded me,
questioning my choice
I wore blue jeans
and a hoodie,
because that’s all I was comfortable in.
They shook their heads in disgust
and gave me tight,
and a low,
red, button up
They said I looked fierce
and that guys like a feisty girl.
So I wore what they told me to.
That night he looked more
at my chest
than my eyes,
but I didn’t stop him.
In tenth grade,
I got ready for my first party.
My best friend came to me,
and questioned my choice
I had a shimmering lip gloss
and a dash of glitter over my eyes,
because makeup made me feel
more like a Barbie doll
than a human being.
She shook her head in disgust
and gave me thick eye liner,
heavy grey shadow
and fake lashes.
She told me I looked sexy
and that guys like sexy girls.
So I did what she told me to.
I hardly recognized myself,
and neither did the college boys
who thought I was the same as as them.
That night they wouldn’t leave
but I didn’t stop them.
In eleventh grade,
I got ready for my first time
at the bar.
My mother came to me
and told me that I looked like a whore
with my denim jeans
with holes all throughout the thighs
and tight tank top
that didn’t go past my stomach.
She said I looked dirty
and that only bad guys
like dirty girls,
but I didn’t listen to her.
That night at the bar
the university boys
told me I looked perfect,
and I couldn’t help but smile
because my friends were right all along.
Someone got too drunk
and hit me that night,
and I started to reconsider
what perfect really meant.
The next year,
I got ready for my friends graduation.
I dressed myself
in blue jeans
and a hoodie,
so I wouldn’t attract
too much attention.
I hadn’t gone to school that year
because my baby needed more attention
than my high school degree.
I thought before then
that I was a perfect girl
because I tried so hard to be,
but all I did was attract the wrong boys,
so I went back to my blue jeans.