love the poem prompt

But what if I met my soulmate too young? What if he’s the one, but life separates the two of us like it always eventually does?
—  Excerpt of a book I’ll never write #40
You left and I thought that would be it. I expected a night or two after it during which my lungs would fill with the air taken in through jagged, sorrow-filled gasps. But no one told me to prepare myself for those moments that’s creep up and grip you in the middle of the day. The ones that can locate you even after months of trying to forget the way your tongue takes shelter in the corner of your mouth when deep in thought. How am I meant to escape this when it seems as though my life is a tracked device monitored only by the memory of you. Cut it out, pry it from my skin. I no longer wish to be followed. I no longer wish to exist for you.
—  (c.m.) // The hunted.

once you start it’s hard to stop,
you feel yourself begin to fall but you don’t resist because you’re falling with him
and you’re not scared because for the first time in a long time, you can feel
your senses are heightened in a way you could never have imagined
every touch feels like fire, every kiss ignites a flame
then the inevitable; you land.
and you can’t get back up,
no matter how hard you try, how hard you fell
because you’re broken
and he’s not there to fix you
his lips tasted like nicotine and you got addicted.

[written by me / @smells-like-teensluts]

l.s. | [sent] [a companion piece/sequel to [unsent]] © 2017

15:47 sometimes the words i can’t say build walls in my throat, post guards to lean against my teeth, an oppression that forces my thumbs to tap out text messages i never let myself send [UNSENT]

15:48 you take my scarf every morning. i think you like how it smells. i think you notice that i notice. i don’t think you notice that i take yours too [UNSENT]

16:10 yess i got the milk, blue like you asked. did you want me to grab bread? [SEEN 16:11]

23:45 every conversation we have is a complicated mess of maybe and could be and i wish it would be [UNSENT]

00:59 sometimes i think i can hear you breathe through the walls. your sighs shake the foundations of our house and they rattle my bones. i hate that you’re unhappy and i hate that i could help if i just opened my mouth to tell you i love you because i do. i do. i just can’t say it yet [UNSENT]

03:09 the last time you told me you loved me it was because i’d stubbed my toe and then flailed around the room like we were on a boat rolling over the waves and i had nothing to hold onto but your laughter and so i prolonged the moment, drew out the pain just to see you smile for a little longer. i didn’t know what to do, what to say, how to act. how to say it back [UNSENT]

08:05 you took my scarf again and i took yours. i watched you through the window as you flung yourself from the front door. tonight i’ll roll my eyes like i always do when i pull it from your neck. i’ll laugh because it’s a habit by now and we’ll linger in the silence that follows, two stars in the same sky but still thousands of light years apart [UNSENT]

22:05 that’s it. that’s enough. i can hear you crying through the wall we share. it’s muffled like you’re trying to hide it and it kills me that you think you need to. i’m putting the kettle on and we’re going to eat cake and i’m going to kiss the crumbs from your face, if you’ll let me [SENT] [SEEN 22:05]

07:00 i think that last night was the best night of my life. i love you. the weather woman said it might snow. i love you. don’t forget to take my scarf when you leave. i love you [SENT] [SEEN 07:01]

THEORY 1: 
I think in another life, we 
were unkind to each other. 
That’s why we met again,
to try and fix things. But
things didn’t work out 
again, and I hope we are
given another chance in
another life.

THEORY 2: 
Your skin is naturally purple
and green, and those weren’t
bruises, no, it was just your
paint chipping, it was just who
I thought you were washing away. 


THEORY 3: 
We never knew each other, 
we only talked in words with
many definitions because we
were afraid of meaning one
thing, we were afraid of
committing to love, a word
everyone knew except for 
us.

—  Three theories I have about past lovers.

Although this winter managed to break your lungs and I’m never there like you’d like me to be, I’m still counting the minutes until you’re okay and those crystallized tears just won’t melt every time you need to cry… I still think that you’re more than important and yes, your heart isn’t tended to as of late… but you’re still my favorite bed time story even if I don’t read you every night and we’re all looking for something that’s bad for us at the end of the night, but it does help– to look. It does help. Don’t stop looking. You’ll find it one of these days, even if it’s not with him.

You were thinking it. I’ll just say it.

I loved you curiously first, with fingertips brushing your hands and arms whenever we met, with space between our bodies and hidden glances in long halls. I loved you badly with each passing day, with bated breath and my phone in my hands, with your face behind closed eyes and your voice in my dreams. I loved you boldly next, with sweet kisses under blue skies, with your hand under my skirt and your breath down my throat. I loved you hopelessly after, with your blood behind my teeth and your name carved into my tongue, with your hands around my throat and the sharp peaks of your teeth edged into my shoulder blades. I loved you desperately in the end, with time rushing by until the vowels of your name remained like ash in my mouth, with my body spent on dirty sheets and my thighs wide open missing you. I loved you. I still do.

- loving you was like breathing | r.m

I love a lot of people who
can’t love me back; rejection
feels less personal when I
can blame something else for
it. Some people only need to
be hurt once to never get over
it - the truth is I never want
to be not loved again the way
you didn’t love me.
—  Rebeka Anne, from now on I’m in charge of who hurts me
I wish I could hold onto the moment 2 years ago where you were cuddling me in the new sweatshirt I bought you. For the first time in my life I felt so safe and loved. In the darkest moments, it was the memory that I held dear. Now, it’s the memory that hurts the most. How did we end up here?
—  The Final Wave Challenge #12 - Jess Amelia
A poem

In a world
Full of people

Where there’s pain
And nothing’s equal

In a place
Full of hate

And where hating
Is your fate

Where there’s war
And there’s crime

And the time’s
Set by a chime

Where you’re forced
To stay in line

Where the sun
Will never shine

And people whine
By the shrine

‘Cause its sign
Shows nothing’s fine

Where ignorance
Is a thing

And society’s
Sickening,

There she…

She still likes
To be alone

She finds joy
In the unknown

Not she forgot
What love is like

For she accepts
The roses spikes

Despite the war
She’s peace inside

She takes her time
And keeps her pride

She stands out
For she is different

And her sun’s set
High so brilliant

‘Cause she has faith
She’d not shed tears

Though others gave up
And drowned in fears

She kept her mind open
For new things to come

And she sees the beauty
In places so humble and glum.

Everyone always says that the first thing you’ll forget is the sound of their voice, but that.is.a.lie. Because when it’s so early in the morning that the sun is just beginning to grace the day with its presence and my thoughts so loud that i can’t breath it’s your voice that’s haunting me. The way you said my name is causing the tears to fall from my eyes because it’s all I can hear anymore. I wish I could forget how your voice sounded when it was 4am and I couldn’t sleep. I just wish I could forget you and everything you left behind.
—  4am
-For Joy-

I’ve walked this road to one like you
At night, before
Idiot I am

I’ve believed in love that thing in songs
A dance of birds
A flower sprout in flight on wind
An urgent need, belong again
Idiot I am

But here you go approaching me
A raging bear, a savage heart
A sultry night that’s blacking out
Alone in sight
Idiot you are

And here I go with rabid drool
My heart a cage, a raging scream
Unarmed you come, your hands the keys
A stroking shame, a restless bear
Afraid of me, unleashing me
To find -

And what did you think you’d find?
Armor, miraculous, sprouts from your chest?
A hallelujah chorus bowed at your approach?
Or did you envision a mad scientist
Reeling back time like fish?

Do you bait your breath for birds to sing?
Fix my hair, rearrange my brain?
Sweep up pain like I’m a dirty girl
Vacuous, brush my past like stray hairs

You want me? Then climb right in
Don’t imagine you sweep me off my feet
Get out your broom
We’re not going anywhere

@katrinnac

(Not sure this is what you were looking for, @writteninjoy2
)

Softly, you whisper in my ear, “Good morning, sweetheart.“ 
I smile as your kiss lingers on my cheek, your warm voice filling my morning with comfort. 
It’s been a year since we’ve been together and your voice still reverberates in my chest every morning. Husky and sleepy.
Your arm is lazily kept over my stomach as soft butterflies scatter in it. I mumble a "Good morning” and turn over to fall back asleep. You watch me, smiling, and then rip the covers from me.
I half-heartedly fight for the stolen warmth as the cold morning catches up to me.
Shuddering, I place a foot on the ground and whine about how cold the ground is as you disappear into the bathroom, satisfied that I’m finally awake. 
It’s 7 in the morning. One of my most important meetings is at 8 and I’ve barely started getting ready for it.
By the time I’m done accumulating all my research and the bullet points I’d made last night into a file, you’re done wearing your suit and making coffee.
Two freshly brewed cups of coffee are shared in the kitchen in silence. Probably the only shred of peace we’ll have during the entire day. 
-
It’s 7 in the evening. You’re already home, changed into comfortable pyjamas and I arrive, tired from a brutal day.
The best part of having someone to love is there’s always someone who is waiting for you once you come back home.
The best part of having someone to love, for me, is the comfort of your arms and the warm silence that shrouds the air when you’re reading a novel and I’m lying on your lap with eyes shut as my body embraces the peace.
No place would ever give me as much solace as your arms.
No aesthetic is as calming as your chocolate brown eyes.
No music is as beautiful as your voice, deep and soft.
Your voice has become my love song, that greets me every morning and is the last thing I hear before I go to sleep at night. 
And I know that I’ll never want to replace it with another.
Maybe this is what forever feels like.
— 

Tamarind Fall; Writing prompt: Your voice is my love song.

@blackpenwritings

he never stops yelling.
his words stay with me even when
he’s not here, haunting
my every step.
he keeps threatening to leave and
i wish he would, maybe then his voice
might finally leave me be.
 
249 days.
249 days until i’m out of this house,
away from this life.
away from him.
—  ((about a father who never stops yelling.))