the hearbreakers

So I guess this is how this ends;

No more sad songs,
No more crying,
No more ‘accidental’ “sorry, wrong person” texts,

I will begin to learn how to be okay without you,
I will teach myself how to listen to our song without crying,
No matter what it takes, I will get over you.

So I guess this is how it ends for good this time,
No encore,
No second chances,

Not again.

And you don’t make me feel impossible. You don’t make me feel like I’m impossible to love and I cannot thank you enough for that. You could of loved anyone on this planet and you picked me and I cannot say how grateful I am for that. That you picked me. Me. Me. You picked me to love and I think that is the most magical thing ever. You picked to love my laugh and my obsession with animals. You picked me and you picked to love my love for books and all things nature. You picked to love my four year old boy laugh and my harshness when the world get’s to hard. You picked to love me and my pills that I take every day to battle clouds that seem to always follow me. You picked to love my scarred skin from night’s when everything got to much and you picked to love my stubbornness on what I want to eat for dinner. You picked to love my small hands and my small personality which you make me feel like it’s big and beautiful. You picked to love my 4 pm I love you’s and my 2 am I don’t want to be here’s. You picked to love my love for animals and homeless people and my uncontrollable laugh when you make a stupid joke. You picked to love my long brown hair and my dull brown eyes. You picked to love my love hate relationships with my mother and my sad life story. You picked to love me and you not only have made me feel loved, you have made me feel like I was beautiful when all I have ever felt my entire life was unworthy. You showed me that I did not need to live in a world of black and white and you opened my heart to color again and I cannot thank you enough for that but I’d like to start with our little “forever”. I hope you do too.
—  Thank you for loving me when I do not love myself. // Deeply Feeling Series 

It’s been 100 days since you kissed her,
And that doesn’t matter anymore or maybe the fact that I’m still counting means that it still matters all too much

I guess what I’m trying to say is that it doesn’t hurt like a knife anymore. I can see you without wanting to run as fast as I can (I still haven’t decided whether I wanted to run to you or away from you)

Somewhere during these 100 days my body got tired of being sad over someone who doesn’t deserve my tears, who never deserved me in the first place. So maybe it does still matter, but it doesn’t hurt as much and I guess that means I’m getting somewhere

romantic relationships
are not the only relationships
that can hurt you

friends can break your heart
friends can be toxic
friends can be abusive
friends can be cruel
friends can treat you wrong
friends can break you

but they shouldn’t
they never should.

Anonymous said: Write something for a ex best friend who treated you wrong and didn’t care about your feelings

Anonymous said: Can you write a poem about an ex best friend who was toxic?

(cc, 2017)

“Just friends” but you’re still the most beautiful human I’ve ever seen

“Just friends” but I find myself reminiscing our first kiss way more often that I should

“Just friends” but even as I’m writing this I’m sitting on a bench we once hugged on and that’s all I can see

“Just friends” but today you touched my hand 3 times and I swear I felt something, you must have felt it too?

“Just friends” but I always look forward to saying goodbye because it’s the only time it’s okay to hug you

“Just friends” but today you were sitting so close and it just didn’t feel right without you arm around me. You never did move to put it there though

“Just friends” but it’s hurts when you talk about her

“Just friends” but I’m crying on a bus stop bench because it’s hurts so fucking much being “just friends”

“Just friends” but I’m still madly fucking in love with you

—  “Just friends”

i hate how easily you cross my mind. i hate that whenever something good happens to me, you’re still the first person i want to tell. i hate that i never know what’s going on in your life anymore; i used to be the first person you’d tell now i’m not even the last and i hate that. i hate that i still want to be in your life. i hate that i still wish you wanted me in your life. i hate that i still care about you. i hate that i still love you because it hurts me more than anything and everything – loving someone who doesn’t love you back is like a slow suicide and i don’t want to die but i don’t know how to stop loving you and i hate it and i hate that i don’t even hate you, after everything we’ve been though, after everything you’ve done to me, and after you’ve made me feel so, so terrible, i still don’t hate you. i just hate me. 

I want to get drunk and forget that you ever loved me, forget that you ever happened at all,
Forget all the phone calls and the kisses,
I want to drink until I forget everything about you,
But 6 shots later and you’re still there,
You’re always there and I can never make you fucking leave
And please understand
that I will never
get tired of listening
to the songs
of your lonely heart—
even if I failed
to understand it
—  ma.c.a // I’m sorry if my silence hurts you so bad

Isn’t it just easier to walk away? To walk away pretend it never happened? Pretend he never happened?

Isn’t it easier to act like you don’t know what his mouth feels like against yours? Or how his lips felt attached to your neck? Isn’t it easier to pretend he never touched you?

Isn’t it easier to forget the conversations you could have sworn meant more than nothing? The ones about god and your sister? The things you never told anyone but him?

Isn’t it easier to pretend everything he said was a lie? Isn’t it easier to act like it never meant anything?

Isn’t it easier to get over him that way?

I could search the entire world
and find nothing close
to the way I feel
when I am with you
—  you are truly magic

You say you have looked for years
to have only found yourself
me, well, I could say the same

here we are
somewhere along these bumpy roads
we found each other

—  m. a.