You left me

There's nothing left to hold me back 

and this empty air i grasp pleads me

move on move on

but my feet are static and my toes

still remember how warm your duvet was

the heat of your breath

fading, fading into the chill

of the morning air

it's hard to hold on, when there's just so much to let go

so much to give up, so much to forego

I don't want to forget, I don't want to remember

the way your lips tasted against my skin.

Never knew.

Would you still remember the way my eyes move,

firelight and starlight fluttering like moths,

and the way that my lips tasted of strawberries

in the midst of all the curling cigarette smoke,

the way your lips fit so perfectly in that little cavity

a pillow between my collarbone and neck,

my heartbeat pulsing and pushing against your tongue,

the way your fingers slide in so perfectly with mine

jigsaw-pieces stitched together with silver rings

numerals spinning with the tick of the stopwatch,

the way your breath rolled down my spine,

waves lapping up my thighs and rain with kisses

would you forget the whispers and sighs

the promises made every 11:11 the familiar tears

and would you remember the way my back arches

when you kiss me, the taste of clear spring water?

Ghost of you

Was i waiting for the whispers

echoes of your name rolling down starched lips

cracked, dried blood (i can feel you seeping 

into my pores) wedges in between

forcing them apart, but I was never really 

together anyway(?)

Dust motes are my only 

lovers at this time of night,

and you're fading.

Midnight fears.

"no, don't go!" she cried emptily, her neptune eyes brimming with oceans of sorrow. "please don't go yet, i have so much more to give you, so much more to say!" her scars of loneliness caves down her arms and circles around her heart, beating in time with the tears pulsating down her jaw. She throws her head into comforting warmth and soothes her throbbing head with gentle caresses but her chest, her chest wouldn't stop breaking in two.

The walls were silent.

i hate friends with benefits.

you

despicable, disgusting, flirtatious you.

if you asked me if i'd do it all over again, 

i'd reply with a resounding "yes"

just to remember what it was that drew me to you

in the first place, what made me fall so hard,

and to tell myself that it's not worth it

because you

took the pieces of me and scattered them

across the soothing oceans

and now when i'm broken once again

you offer to pick me up from the unforgiving waves

and offer your sinful lips to heal my wounds

if you asked me if i'd do it all over again

i'd reply with a fearful "no"

because you've already dirtied me.

I tried.

you're a constellation all your own

and i dream of carving mountains under my skin

just so you'd know how high i'd climb

just to touch your stars

but the pain stops me from trying.

Letter 07: Your Ex-boyfriend/girlfriend/love/crush

Dear You,

beautiful, cruel you,

I used to love the idea of you,

your fingers tangled in mine,

soft lips pressing to the curve of my throat,

whispering how you wanted me.

Then you took my black marker

and dotted a short line down my sternum

guidelines, you'd said, to take my heart

and then laughed, kissing me.

Who knew that a few weeks later,

you did exactly that

-

and left me broken.

Loved,

Me.

She's tired of your lies.

forgive me love, 

forgive me, forgive him, forgive us but--

champagne flutes stopped singing love songs

our soundtrack faded into overcast silence long ago

(and that broken red radio needs to go)

it was the only musical warmth you offered me.

Worshipping.

fingers carve initials into the window

and she traces every angle of your face

oceans pool in her porphyria summer eyes

silent prayer nestled in between her lips.

waiting for the one you love was never easy,

neither is waiting for the goodbye you know 

is on the way home.

It's so sweet.

Dear You,

I drank in your love(?)

and vomited rainbows.

Love(d),

the girl you pushed away.

Cinderella was too late.

"don't look at me"

"but you're beautiful"

***

The real world isn't like a fairy-tale. When you run away with tears streaming down your face, he isn't going to run after you, grab your arm, pull you into the homely feel of his chest and kiss your forehead--tell you that you're beautiful and that he wants you back. 

No. 

He's just going to walk away and feel a little pang over the fact that he made you cry ("justalittlebitiswear").

And when you're ready, he'll say sorry.

But you'll never be really ready,

And he'll never be really sorry.

Gravity.

you spoke and, 

my heart fell out of my chest

and kissed the ground

"  c  h  e  a  p  "

but my love for you comes without a price

Perfume.

Your scent still lingers in my sheets and dances across my pillows,

like a fleeting ghost escaping my grasp [e s s e n c e ofyouandme]

I roll in you/me/us and find a home in your fading warmth--

goodbye.

see you again?

(i kind of still want to, just to make sure it wasn't a dream)

Dreaded words.

"Hey, we need to talk..."

the air around her evapourates,

she can't breathe, she can't breathe, 

no, no, no

she doesn't want this to happen,

this thing of her darkest nightmares

no, no, no--

Feeling the tears burning her eyes, 

she looks up at him and whispers,

"oh..okay."

no. no. no.

he's just like them.

take my hand and follow me...

and you think that no, no he's different. he's not like one of those assholes who would just date you, pretend to love you with sweetened words and honey-combed messages before tossing your heart onto the floor like a piece of trash. 

Actually, he is an asshole. 

No, no, he is different--

he's just better at hiding it.

...to the place I long to be

Vintage love.

"please don't leave me alone..."

"i promise i won't ever leave you alone"

the sentence that echoes through everyone's mind--like a thousand voices that drown you in solitude as you huddle within yourself by yourself.

the sentence that echoes through your mind when you see them, an endless mantra because, goddamnit, you believe in nothing -- nothing -- but them,

our hearts are like g l a s s

chipped antiques stacked on dusty shelves,

no one wants.

Author's note: Yay! First collaboration with Juniper. I feel so complete.

That one sms.

It's not the same anymore. It's not what it used to be when she'd call him every night and tell him about her day, what she did and how much she wished that he was there. She still yearns to hear that special vibration that somehow (magically) means that you've texted her--to know if she's been eating (because you used to care). But now it's nothing but empty silences.

It's not what it used to be anymore.

And she misses that.

It's easier.

breathe;

in and out

in and out 

in and out

breathe, because crying hurts.

No more tears.

She's screaming your name.

It's not like you don't notice that desperate cry

She sees the way your eyelids flicker nervously and the way your lips--the very same lips you used to kiss her goodbye--tremble with pain.

"Don't go! We can work this out! It's not supposed to happen like this!"'