Love is a shout in the void. A shot in the dark. A simple complicated way of making life work. Love is 4am Skype calls. Love is pain and love is drowning in waterfalls Of hurt and love is wishing that you would fall In love with me again and again and again and I …
My cup runneth over with your words of sweet admiration. I placed your spilled love in a jar with your name on it. I have shelves upon shelves of names on jars. But I put yours on my bedside to illuminate the shadows of memories gone by. They’re less scary that way. Your love be …
You plucked my pretty petals and I haven’t been the same ever since. I threw caution to the wind for you. I sinned for you. I lay down for you and I cried for you. But oh how I loved you. You stained me with a love so sweet, I forgot what it meant to …
It always comes back to the rose. Red or white. Stained or pure. A metaphor for love or pain. The beauty never subsides but simply coexists with the thorns.
Was it when I showed off my body in a way that would make the church cry? Or was it when I told you I would be there for you and you took that as I would be there for only you? Was it when I said “I don’t want another to love me”? Or …
It’s not trueTell me I’ve been lied toCryin’ isn’t like youOoh What the hell did I do?Never been the type toLet someone see right throughOoh Maybe won’t you take it back?Say you were tryna make me laughAnd nothin’ has to change todayYou didn’t mean to say, “I love you”I love you and I don’t want …
What a ̶ ̶s̶t̶r̶a̶n̶g̶e̶ ̶b̶e̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶a̶r̶e̶ ̶ G̶o̶d̶ ̶k̶n̶o̶w̶s̶ ̶w̶h̶e̶r̶e̶ ̶I̶ ̶w̶o̶u̶l̶d̶ ̶b̶e̶ ̶i̶f̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶h̶a̶d̶n̶’̶t̶ ̶f̶o̶u̶n̶d̶ ̶m̶e̶ ̶S̶i̶t̶t̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶a̶l̶l̶ ̶a̶l̶o̶n̶e̶ ̶i̶n̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶d̶a̶r̶k̶ ̶ ̶a̶ dumb ̶s̶c̶r̶e̶e̶n̶s̶h̶o̶t̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶t̶h̶ ̶ W̶a̶t̶c̶h̶ ̶h̶o̶w̶ ̶a̶ ̶c̶o̶l̶d̶ ̶b̶r̶o̶k̶e̶n̶ teen ̶w̶i̶l̶l̶ ̶d̶e̶s̶p̶e̶r̶a̶t̶e̶l̶y̶ ̶l̶e̶a̶n̶ ̶ U̶p̶o̶n̶ ̶a̶ ̶s̶u̶p̶e̶r̶g̶l̶u̶e̶d̶ ̶h̶u̶m̶a̶n̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶p̶r̶o̶o̶f̶ W̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶h̶e̶l̶l̶ would I be without …
A little Victoria’s Secret box that my high school girl crush gave to me is now sitting under my desk and it is full of memories of you. Ironic, isn’t it? Little dust bunnies are hopping around this valley of highs. I don’t pull it out as often as I used to. I think that’s …
A jumble of numbers wouldn’t seem to hold so much meaning. Looking upon it further, It’s a date. G̶o̶d̶,̶ ̶I̶ ̶w̶i̶s̶h̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶’̶d̶ ̶s̶a̶y̶ ̶t̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶m̶e̶.̶ ̶ Anyway, It was the password to my phone for 2 years. I’m sure it’s still the password to some old accounts I’ve forgotten about. Maybe even the answer …
A cave with boulders of burden blocking the exit. Echoes of deprecation bouncing off the walls. Burned out torches with their smoke swallowing the depths. Dark and dreary with no end in sight. Hoping for an end but the walls close in. Nothing seems to be in sight.