A time long gone.

Maybe she loved him, sometime back in December. 

She feels sorry for anyone who forgets the feeling. She feels sorry for anyone who has never had the opportunity to kiss his sleeping pulse. She feels sorry for anyone who has never felt his large hands on the back of their neck, who has never felt how goddamn beautiful it is to fall in love with another human being. He was imperfect and disorganised and needed her to finish his fullstops, to put a breath inbetween his words. She was sad but hopeful and never wanted to leave his side but sometimes love isn't enough to make you want to stay. He was wonderful but he was ruin and heartbreak and empty sighs. She was tired of crying battered tears and questioning herself, "how", questioning him, "why" and being met with silence.

She was strong enough to let go and wise enough to understand that it was wrong to give yourself so completely to someone yet stupid enough to want to keep being with him, fooling herself that it was okay to get hurt as long as he continued to be her safety net. She could weave lies and beautiful words, a glimmer of illusion, a lamp-shade over the pain she felt inside. But happiness was too far out of reach and she forgot too-long, too-much how smiling worked.

So she picked up the pieces of herself, tucked them into her breast pocket and stitched as much of herself together as possible before she left the warm bed of comfort and his whispers of forevers and promises she wanted to believe in. Sometimes reality has to sink in and she was too weak to be strong any longer. 

Maybe she loved him, sometime back in December.

And maybe she loves him, sometime yesterday.

And maybe she will keep loving him, sometime tomorrow.

I want to see the world.

and there’s something beautiful in the idea

of getting lost in the city with you

cobblestone footsteps lost into the colors

of the foreign laughter

and i can’t speak their language

but with you, we need no words

Instinctive.

Oh carnal woman, burning temptations

with the dark smell of musky monday mornings

a room filled with things, things, things

what secret senses are clasped between sheets

soaked with primal instinct and need

though love is absent in the suffocating air.

Two bodies are ruined by a single moment of

unwanted sweetness and light feathers

where he kisses my infinity and i kiss him goodnight

and then soon i am nothing.

Balloon.

she wants to let go of the things that hold her down

but she can’t help but want to stay grounded

because blood runs thinner than water and 

I’m tired about lying of not thinking of you

Open book.

each furrow between your brow is a story

each crease a paragraph where lines

are etched in words of black and white

sometimes grey because it’s getting harder

to tell what’s wrong or right.

Candlelight thoughts.

To be frank.
How much I want you, scares me.
You scare the absolute shit out of me.

It's not often that I'm enraptured by somebody's voice, their eyes, their smiles. I didn't think that you'd be the one to capture me, least of all someone like you. I warned myself not to fall, no, not to be drawn towards such a keen player of the game. Alpha and Alpha(sometimes Omega) and we can't deny this irrefutable bout of underlying passion that binds us together. And I can't deny you of claiming what you desire, not without denying myself of my own.

I can't stop you anymore,
and now i'm not sure if I want to at all.

Speed.

Cliche's aside,

you are my heroin

all powdery and broken and i'm 

a d d i c t e d

to your bowed head and sad smiles

breathe you in and let you rest

in the aching cavern 

between my 

r i b s

Midnight talks.

your nails rake days into my skin

marks of imprisonment in blotched red

scratches of a prisoner on stony walls

lines crossing with every touch

i'm a patchwork of need and you're what pulled me apart

shred my mask of pure intentions

sink me into velvet pleasures

drown me in your lips

where my name is lost

in the crevice between your ribs

He is temptation.

it's torture every time our eyes meet

my ribs contract and my breath evapourates

and i dream of the way your hands wander on my skin

sketching constellations with your fingertips

lips laced with heroine, tongue full of addiction

you're a sinner baby

thank god i'm a sinner too

you don't know what you're doing to me.

Sometimes I think.

and she longed to know if

in his mind, she was the only constant source

of late-night conversations and broken hearts

and if his voice

could still make fireworks go off

even in silence

Memorabilia.

you slip through my fingers;

a fleeting ghosts of memories--

time breathing last moments

broken by tears and screams

of pleas of pain and happiness

i loved

but now you stay in abyss

a fickering existence

frozen in the second hand

of the broken clock.

White Noise.

The sharp white screeches

blind me and I choke on acrid smoke

i can't seem to keep up

and everything is a blur

" can't hold on "

a tear rolls into the ocean

and i watch my reflection

fade with the setting sun.

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

You're gone.

they didn't know where to go anymore

these l e t t e r s weak on their own

sentences strung together in empty space

like feathers

" birds of a flock "

you used to tell me, so insignificant

yet so significant

I miss your voice.

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?

Not an artist.

If someone gave me a paintbrush and told 

me to paint my feelings onto a canvas,

i'd choose to paint the stars and the northern lights 

because I could never capture your smile the 

way you capture me and the stars are the 

closest thing to how bright you are

so don't burn out, not yet.

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.

Two different things.

You are like water and i am oil

.

Sometimes I would forget your existence

and instead chase after sober dreams, mere fragments

of thoughts and realities spun into a complex narrative

befitting for a true prince and princess of fairytales

.

we're forever apart

yet so perfectly together

Even if.

And even if forever was never,

i'd like to spend them in your arms,

even if forever was never, really, truly

enough.

Fear is believing.

it's a long way down, she said

so jump and fall, he said

but i'm afraid, she said

i'll catch you, he said

but I'll break, she said

that's okay, he said

because it means that you're still human.