we heart it ink

Do you ever think that we took things a little backwards? I have a history of pouring a little too much out of my heart so I’m not really surprised by that. I know how my words can be sometimes, how my stitches aren’t always lined up. I flooded you with too much of me and then tried to calm things down–as I do with everyone–but you didn’t let me. You told me that you wanted all of those things, all of those thoughts, all of those feelings because that was it for you. You just completely admired the way I felt things, not carefully, but all at once. And then? Then when you told me that you loved me? I couldn’t possibly get enough of you.
—  🖤
I wanted to believe him
When he said I was his one and only.
I couldn’t stop doubting him
It began to kill us slowly.
I couldn’t believe that I was enough
And I wish I wasn’t right.
All his sweet words weren’t enough
When I read what he would write.


So now I’m scared to let you in,
I’ve forgotten how to trust.
I know now that it’s sink or swim,
So I’m brushing off this dust.
I don’t know if these walls will break
They hardly ever crack.
But If you give me your all,
I’ll try to give mine back.

—  K.N.B.
This is Not an Ending

we will meet again
someday
i have to believe that

your heart will be a safe place
for me to rest my head
i will be your sounding board

we will meet again
somehow
i simply must believe

i will be a field of wildflowers
you will be the rain

we will meet again
through time
as lovers or as friends

Azuki Lynn

There you go, leaving spots on my neck and thoughts in people’s heads. You make me wonder. Am I just an object you use and leave behind? We aren’t like normal couples but oh, how I wish we were.
—  Lifewritten
It’s the saddest story in the world: sometimes the “right person” is not enough.
—  excerpt from a book I’ll never write #22

All I have is my humanity.
I am so soft.
I am so soft.
I am so soft.
I often repeat myself.
As if I am trying to convince myself of what I am saying.
As if I am running from my words but they are stones in my shoes and I am falling after every breath.

Listen;
Someone told me I should write a book.
Instead
I looked at the clouds and counted how many looked like the way your lips would feel across my neck.

Listen;
I am tearing out pages of the bible and strangling God with prophecy that is my soul.
I know the moon too well for her to spill my secrets.

I thought we would grow old together.
Birth babies like laughter together.
But I am waking up in the middle of the day to see your face screaming voicelessly and I would rather run straight for the fucking edge of this earth than never hear you say my name.

I am shaking, darling.

People are staring at my paranoia and my suffering is so loud.

Last night I had a dream that we were standing in a room of mirrors and I tried to reach for you.

Last night I had a dream that we were standing in a room of mirrors and I tried to reach for you.

Goddammit.

Last night I had a dream that we were standing in a room of mirrors and I tried to reach for you.

I could see you cracking open your ribcage and I wanted nothing more than to hide your hands in mine and kiss you back together.
Kiss every broken bone created by you and by me and by me.

I know you are scared of my hands.
They have always been so destructive.
But for you,
I would break them back and make them as soft as Beethoven’s fifth secret.

I know you are scared of my heart.
It has always beat everyone who has tried to turn me into water.
Something that flows so easily.
No rough edges.
No cracked centers.
But for you,
I would break it open and make it as holy as the verses you whispered into me the night you told me you loved me.

—  There is a dream stuck in the head of every lover. A dream of about to be hit. But even God will expose her bones if it means she gets to sleep inside of hands forever.

You don’t know how to fall in love,
never did, so what you do is fabricate
a dream out of as many truths as you can.

One: he is smart and defiant and full
of a restlessness that outshines all else,
but you are ten and this is the kind of boy
everyone expects you to like.

Two: he storms into the room, yelling.
It’s five years later and he hasn’t changed,
not in your eyes,
but it’s gotten harder to look at him.

Three: you are in college and he is in college
and he likes to name the bones in your hand.
You’ve spent so long pretending to like him,
you feel you might have wished it into fact.

Four: he tells you it’s never goodbye
when it comes to the two of you,
which is just such a freaking line.
You can’t seem to forget it.

Five: even when you don’t fall in love,
you find other ways to break your own heart.

—  The things we do
your headlights shown off the dew soaked road as we drove to nowhere. it was early, too early for the sun to be fully awake, so instead she covered the sky with her sleepy pink smile. I gazed out the window and held your hand as it rubbed my thigh. we were lost in an unknown city of love and delirium and neon lights. the glow of the night had faded into dust and all that was left was the soft blush of the sun tainting the left over flyers for washed out bands and empty cups next to empty hearts. here is where you go to find love; here is where you love everything too much and you drown in it until you no longer feel it. but we drove on through, never stopping, never looking back, for we had all the love we needed between us and the sky.
—  and we were starlight//e.g.
Epitaph

There’s an ocean within us all,
with rivers of veins,
mountains of calcium,
and life roaming in forms of cells.

Our heart is a warm celestial orb,
spreading light throughout the soft earth of our body,
providing the source from which life grows.

The universe is our mind,
containing every concept and object,
allowing life to exist.

We are life.

Our epithet is life.

Our epitaph: we lived

on the futon in her room
your eyes on mine
I asked you, what you were thinking about.
you, you said. nothing else.
just you.

in her kitchen
you hummed one of my favorite songs, and I hugged you.
im sorry, I said. nothing else.
im sorry.

on her back porch
your eyes avoiding mine
it rolled off your tongue sticky and slow.
we both cried.

in her car
we used to hold hands in the backseat.
the smiths were playing, you sang along.
we didn’t look at each other then.

her futon doesn’t exist anymore to me. nor her kitchen, her back porch, her car.
and neither do we.

—  friends can break your heart too

“Do you miss him or the way being loved feels like?” she asked me.

“I don’t know,” I said. “But the way he loved me…”

“How? Tell me how,” she asked.

“He loved me in a way that he knew my favorite chocolate, he bought me my favorite lemonade when I was in a bad mood, he knew I didn’t like coffee, he secretly sprayed his cologne on my pillows knowing how much it relaxed me, he rode in my car even when terrified of the way I drive, he waited for me to come home so he could go to sleep knowing I was safe, he listened to me for hours talking about something he knows nothing nor care about, he let me sleep at 3pm in his arms, he looked at me like nothing else mattered in this world, he rocked me while caressing my hair and waited for the pain to go away, he wanted me and my flaws and my past and my broken parts.”

“And what happened?”

I said, “I didn’t love him enough so I had to let go.”

—  excerpt from a book I’ll never write #20
We sang drunk
Our hearts, faster as they were
We sang, we were drunk
Driveway, night, it’s been a while.
We were aware of the danger
You stopped,
I looked back
You kissed me
We sang, we were drunk
But we knew our love never left
I pulled you, closer than ever
I felt your breath, warm and mellow
We were drunk
But we both know it is our love
That never left
We sang, we were drunk
You whispered “Still you.”
We were drunk, we love.
—  her (MIS), you and pastel pill
What were we?

But what were we but two lost souls aching for a little understanding? What were we if not a time bomb? What were we when we were dancing in the middle of the flames of this awful world we live in? What were we in the middle of the night when there was nothing but us? What were we if not crazy in love?
What were we? I want to know. Because it’s been eating me alive not knowing. Because there’s this void in me where you used to be and I need to fill it with something, even if it’s just a reminder of what we were or what we could have been.