Baby you’re a burning cluster of chaotic stars with universes sleeping in your skin & freckled stars in your fuckin kitty litter m8
— 

HOW TO WRITE A TUMBLR POEM

This took 10 seconds but it made me laugh. As do all of the empty poems you write. And I really don’t giving flying fuck if I’m liked. 
Bil D’amato 

Don’t.
Don’t burn the pictures.
Don’t rip the handwritten love letters up.
Don’t destroy the memories that made you the happiest; because time heals but also brings regret.

Because you can’t go back & you’ll never have another 1st love. Years will pass & you won’t remember the color of his eyes in detail quite like you did. And it’s going to break you down because you’ll find yourself in bed at 2:10 in the morning trying to remember the way his lips curved when he smiled but it’s been too long & all the pictures you have with him are gone.. And you’ll start to think that maybe you shouldn’t have been so fucking impulsive.

Put everything in a box & only open it after you’ve moved on & want to revisit a time that was filled with genuine love & innocence. Because despite what you’ve been told, you can let go without forgetting.

It’s okay to trace the poems he wrote you in cursive with your fingertips, remembering what it was like the first time you laid eyes on him.

It’s okay to smile at the pictures of you two kissing; after all, his lips were the ones to show you how it was done-
it’s okay if your eyes well up because you can still feel him holding your shaking hands. It’s okay if you laugh at the promise of forever that two kids made because even though it was too big of a promise at that age, it was admirable.

It’s okay to close that box & put it back under your bed or in the back of your closet to collect dust for another 6 months while you live & fall in love again & again.

You will always remember him, with or without the pictures but having them makes it alot easier when you’re no longer a kid & you’ve loved a handful of men after him & the color of their eyes are mixing in with his & all you want is to be sure. When all you want is to remember a time where love was him walking you home from school kissing you on the cheek. When love didn’t mean doing drugs or getting undressed.
—  I wish I could remember the exact color of his eyes & what it felt like to be pure again.
I never realized just how badly I’ve missed you until I knew I couldn’t tell you things anymore. Like how I couldn’t gloat to you when I passed that exam I always complained to you about, or when I did the things we planned to do together, or how I watched the new episode of our favorite show and how much I wanted to rant to you about it. I never realized how badly I’ve missed you until I saw you look down at the ground while I passed by you; you couldn’t even look at me, but I couldn’t look at anything or anyone but you. I realized I’ve missed you when Taylor Swift came on shuffle, and I couldn’t picture anything but you singing along, like you always used to. And I remember how much I rolled my eyes every time you did, but god, I miss it so much now. I miss your silliness, your excitement, and just how happy you made me feel. I’d do anything to have that back. I’d do anything to have you back. I’m not ready to let you go.

9/26/16

She tells me that I’ve changed. I ask her to define change. I ask her like the way wind rustles leaves, I’m in her bones at this point. She’s shaking. I drive away with the last bits of summer. I’m shaking. I’m angry. I have her attention, but she doesn’t have mine. Did I break her heart? She says, she speaks– my train of thought runs all over me. Bits of who I believe myself to be exposed to daylight– we’re unfamiliar. We’re strangers. We don’t talk like we mean it. I’m hollow, I’m empty, I’m cracked, I’m ripped. I mindlessly do things. I smile because I want people to relax, not because it’s real. I make people laugh because there’s too much crying when we’re alone and no one truly cares too much to pay any real attention. The burning ashes from my lit cigarette thins itself on my knees. I can’t seem to love people anymore. Real life interactions carve me open, but I don’t pay attention to myself. I call myself selfish, but in a way I’m just too selfless. I’ve given too much away, I don’t recognize myself in the rearview add to that… this is the longest 30 minute car ride ever. She gets out. I drive away. If I screamed, I wonder if she could hear it through our silence. She says how come you never write about me, darling, I can barely write about me. I’m a stranger to my strangers. I’m a stranger to me.

– the truth

I will always remember you.
Not the way that you left,
but the way that you existed. 
I will remember the way that you made
my numb heart beat again.
I will remember every single smile
you made my way
and how your eyes glowed with passion
with every word you spoke. 
I will remember the sound of your voice –
or at least I hope I will (I’m afraid that I won’t.)
I will remember the excitement, the positivity
and the light that you radiated. 
I will always remember the way that you
made me believe in magic, 
the way that you made me believe 
that the world wasn’t so bad after all. 
I can’t seem to get the experience of you
out of my head. 
And years from now, 
I don’t want to remember you with pain.
I want to remember that existing with you
was the best privilege I could have ever had.
I want to remember the way you made me feel alive,
I want to remember that
every minute with you was worth it,
even if you left.
—  I want to remember that it’s okay to love, even if they always leave. You taught me how to love, and I don’t ever want to forget that. || 8/? from to the girl i shouldn’t love - n.h.s [percussionhearts]