106;
Today is your birthday
and by now I don't think it matters
how long you've been gone
my brain always find ways to remind me
I've come to terms with you being gone
I've come to terms with a lot of things
I know by now
I probably found all of your notes;
it's been years since I unfolded one
since I smiled while reading
your handwriting was always atrocious
most days I still think that my heart
should have stopped when yours did -
I haven't lived in a long time
I still dream of you
usually in the mornings
the kind of confusing dreams
where my brain doesn't register
that you're not next to me
while waking up
I still reach for you
muscles all soft from sleep
brain foggy
it's like I can still feel your warmth
your fingers on my skin
reality is always such a disappointment
anyways, I digress;
happy birthday love
I miss you more than words can say
105;
I read her poems again,
my masochistic tendencies showing I guess,
and I hope he was kinder to her
but I keep getting stuck on a message she sent to me
about how men never change
I know she was trying to break us up
for a while, I was even thankful
that she eventually succeeded
I thought that they deserved each other,
but looking back -
older and maybe even wiser,
no one deserves that
104;
I feel so stuck in the past today
it's not a new feeling,
it comes and goes
but my own goddamn curiosity isn't always good for me
I read her poems
and they messed with my head
seeing me mentioned as the girlfriend
as someone to be envious of
as someone keeping someone else's heart prisoner?
Siting here now,
all cards on the table
what was the future then
is the past now,
I don't know everything
if we're being truthful -
I barely know anything.
Closed doors and all that,
I moved away
not because it hurt,
in retrospect, it was never about love.
I don't have anyone to talk to,
because everyone who knew us
thinks that he was such a nice guy
and who am I to tarnish that?
Who would believe me
when I even doubt myself most nights?
But... I found the messages,
the ones I thought long lost or imagined.
Written from my parent's couch
while quietly crying,
while quietly hurting,
after saying no too many times to count,
it never mattered, did it?
He never respected that word.
It didn't always end in tears,
it didn't always end like that.
Sometimes it ended in silent treatments,
sometimes he'd pout and turn around,
sometimes he'd keep asking and touching
until it was easier to just give in than to say no again.
There's no one to talk to,
and I don't even know what I would say,
how to begin,
there are so many questions I can't answer.
Why did I stay?
Why didn't I say something?
Why was I quiet for so long?
The past is so loud today,
memories playing on repeat,
but it was never about love.
& I wish I could reach out
to the person I was in the past
and let her know
that love isn't supposed to hurt
that love isn't supposed to feel like a cage
that love isn't an excuse or a reason for abuse
that no should only have to be said once
I'm so sorry I failed us
103;
I found her poems
and I think she might have loved you more than I ever did
101;
I wake up before you;
sunlight through the window
reflects on your skin
and
everything else fades
you smell like sun warm apples
- it always undoes me
I should let you sleep,
hell, I should go back to sleep
yesterday's drinks are still buzzing in my head,
my body sore from hours on the dance floor
temptation;
I've never been strong enough
I can sense the city waking up,
slowly stretching towards the sun
faint traffic noises
but inside, here,
there's only us
my heartbeats feel empty,
no music to keep up with
no bass to take over,
snapshots from last night playing on my mind
my hands on your hips
your lips on mine
the taste of lemon drop on your tongue
and I can't anymore;
moving closer to you,
feeling the warmth of your skin
letting my finger move down your spine,
getting sidetracked by your tan lines
slowly kissing your shoulder blade
and lying here with you,
a slow saturday morning
feels like finally coming home
099;
I'm fine, I text him
at the same time
the tiny, red crescents
down my wrist are screaming
liar
I tell myself it's not self harm;
I don't even draw blood,
I don't carve new scars into my skin
- that's the line, right?
I'm fine
I don't think I've ever been fine
- these days I doubt I'll ever be
097;
I don’t keep tracks of the lies
told by others anymore;
for a while I would
carve
every single one of them
into my skin
every thin, pale scar a tally,
a reminder
- like I would learn from my own mistakes
laughable
I’m sure it made sense at one point,
but now I’ve lost the fucking plot.
He must have told me
I love you
a hundred times -
I don’t have enough untouched skin
for his fucking lies
096;
penance noun
[countable, usually singular, uncountable] (especially in particular religions) an act that you give yourself to do, or that a priest gives you to do, in order to show that you are sorry for something you have done wrong
No Lies, Just Love song
So please forgive what I have done
No you can't stay mad at the setting sun
Cause we all get tired, I mean eventually
There is nothing left to do but sleep
(I will be pure)
095;
I instantly find your eyes
on the dance floor -
when you know someone
the way I know you,
you can always find them
we pull towards each other
gravity
it's simple physics, baby
I'm unsteady in my high heels,
too many drinks;
too much alcohol in my blood
you have that rhythm in your body;
the one I envy
the music seems to flow through you
seamlessly, harmoniously
I can't move like that,
it's never been nature to me
&
even if I've seen it so many times,
seen your fluent moves countless times
I never grow tired of it -
it's the same way you move around his body
under his hands
when we're all in bed together,
your body is like music on my lips,
poetry on my tongue
& I never want the music to end
093;
I know better than to stare into mirrors in the dark;
that's where the monsters hide,
tricking your brain into seeing demons
I move through my apartment in the dark
becoming nocturnal is an easy choice;
the daylight tames nightmares and personal demons -
I don't dream of her, no lingering smell of apples,
I don't dream of him, no taste of ashes in my mouth
it's a small reprieve,
one that I'm thankful for
092;
I want to ghost an entire country,
switch my life for someone else’s -
maybe there’s no happiness to be found for me
; but at least then I’ll know for sure
091;
I deleted his text without replying;
it took all the restraint I had within me,
but I still see it when I close my eyes
word by word
and even though I know
he's all empty promises and hope
no one has ever known me the way he knows me
089;
(TW - sexual abuse)
{
I'm back at my parents house
it's night and I'm on the couch;
the tv is muted,
walls occassionally lit up by passing cars
I'm trying to breathe,
the panic holding a tight grip on my lungs
shallow breaths, so shallow
tears running down my cheeks
my whole body is hurting
everyone is sleeping
he's asleep in my bed
I'm quiet as a mouse;
I've had a lot of practice falling apart quietly
my phone vibrates in my hand,
I can't see the blurred message,
but I know who it is,
someone who just happened to be online
someone who I just reconnected with a week ago
- maybe my saviour tonight?
}
I wake up, panic clawing its way through my throat;
the pain is still present throughout my body and
I stand up, trying to get away from the bed,
before I realise it was just a dream
- a dream of a very real memory
my brain, still half asleep,
working on putting the pieces together
and then it hits me like a brick,
I flinch as the memory takes form in my head;
he's holding me hard against him,
his arms wrapped tightly around me
the amount of times I said no doesn't matter
I'm too tired to argue with him
so I don't protest, I just let him
I'm laying on my side with him behind me
- my body isn't ready at all
and it hurts so much
I try to push the memory from my head,
successfully forgotten for so many years
my whole body is shaking,
remembering
hurting
I start moving towards my phone,
but I sit down on my bed instead,
falling apart completely
;
I don't care who hears my panic this time
087;
he traces my scars
like they’re a mean of navigation;
a map,
a star chart
sometimes, he pauses
looks at me
I can sense his question
through the silence
I want to tell him,
that the only thing
he’ll discover here
is how deep my self loathing goes
but I just shrug
I know he’s temporary,
they never stay for long
he has that spark in his eyes
love is still a miracle for him
- it’s just a poison to me
086;
Happy birthday, hun
I love you very, very, very, very, very, very, very much
even if you’re not here anymore
you’re still in my thoughts, my dreams;
so many memories of us together
so much longing and sorrow,
I don’t know how to fit it all into a life time
I still carry you with me
everywhere I go
sometimes people argue
that it’s not healthy;
screw them
they never knew us
085;
like calls to like
she said
and then I knew
that I could never date you;
if you're anything like me,
I won't stand a minute alone with you
084;
and to realise,
after all this time
that you’re not
the yellow bird
that I’ve been waiting for
;
absolutely
heartbreaking
082;
I can tell by the way that he answered the phone that he was asleep.
"I’m sorry, I’m so sorry."
"No problem, what time is is? Hold on..."
I hear how he’s searching for something.
"What are you doing?"
"I just need my glasses."
"It’s 2 am and I called to talk, glasses aren’t connected to your ability to speak?"
"Don’t wake me up just to mock me.."
"I didn't... I-I’m sorry..."
Most people that I know would, if being called at 2 am, tell me to go to sleep and call them again in the morning, but not him. I knew this.
"What’s on your mind?"
I want to tell him that my mind is completely shattered, thoughts are flying past me like they were cars on the Autobahn and I can’t stop it. I want to tell him that I am so, so, so lonely. I want to tell him that all my friends are moving forward
and here I am walking backwards, retracing my own footsteps. I want to tell him that life still feels like a play where everyone else got character descriptions and lines in a manuscript, while I’m just improvising, afraid to ask for directions, help,
anything. I want to tell him that what my ex said years ago still haunts me to the point of crippling anxiety if I start to think about it too much. I want to tell him how my mother thinks I’m too independent and therefore not able to have lasting
relationships with men. I want to tell him how badly I want an expiration date for grieving, how I want the memories of her to slowly fade, how I don’t want to wake up with the feeling of her touch still lingering on my skin. I want to tell him that
I didn’t know a single person could contain so much longing for lost things.
My mind is a spiral. I realise I’ve been quiet for too long when he checks in on me.
"Luu, are you still there?"
"Yea, sorry."
And here’s the second reason I called him: he doesn’t pry further, he doesn’t ask anything else, he starts to tell me about his day. I hang on to his words, like they’re the anchor that can ground me somewhere;
oh how I would give up anything to not be driftwood anymore.
081;
I've made so so so so many mistakes
but no,
you were not one of them
080;
You sent me a letter,
an actual, oldfashioned letter,
wrote; spilled your soul out on a piece of paper
maild it across the country
wrote about how you're getting sober,
how you don't do anything you used to anymore;
changes,
becoming someone else.
I remember the nights;
alcohol flowing,
I remember the swift motion
of a rolled up bill against my skin -
more for show than for practical use.
We were young,
oh so young
oh so naive
oh so unaware of consequenses.
You were always the most charming drunk,
polite,
always looked immaculate -
no matter the amount of drinks you'd had:
now I can see through that,
can see that it was a facade
so people wouldn't know the truth.
I admire your efforts
breaking free of old patterns are hard,
I hope you find what you're looking for;
redemption,
forgiveness,
kindness
happiness.