matty739

Here I am Running amok in my restless head, with my sleepless heart Thinking only and always of you, My love, My dear, My darling. I feel fingers that draw lovely messages onto the small of my back And I place my hand onto his, only to be undone by a sense of deep longing because, you see, this hand that reaches out to me does not belong to the one I yearn for No, my love, he isn't you and never could compare At the end of a phone call you lovingly command of me to "Come" and "Go" I play your voice over in my head every night As I soak up the reality Of never being with you No, I'll never have you in my arms again I miss y

I told myself that never again would I love a man who provided so little certainty, I promised myself, that I would be wise- that I would watch closely at a person's ticks, quirks, and tendencies before ever getting my fragile heart involved But I saw him one day in a dream I found myself falling blissfully and peacefully for the smaller things about him for the way his Cupid's bow is slightly uneven to the right I fell in love with the soft curve of his bottom lip, and how warm his kisses felt against my mouth, against my shoulders, my neck, the curves of my back, how we fit and filled one another without ever thinking or trying I fell

I saw you last night, and the sight of you is embedded into me. I had been hoping for otherwise    but, turns out you're more beautiful        every time            I see you Now, today, every attempt to walk feels like needles in my stomach     and a plug in my throat             I miss you so much I could die.

       I am a puppet on a string, manipulated and controlled. Focused and faked,    until I wear the smell         of ancient wood on my suit covered bones. I never knew what a lie was, until I truly met myself.

You know, it's been about six years since I've heard my own voice. And six years ago, today, you would have been twelve years old. I love you, and I miss walking you to baseball practice every Sunday. I still have the little pocket knife that I bought for you four years in advance for when you would turn ten. You never even got to see it, and it's heartbreaking for me because it's still in the box where I had it wrapped in your favourite color, green. I remember your deep green eyes and dark lashes, and the dark brown hair that hung in your face and hid your expressions, and your careless little giggle. You were adorable. When I found out th

so here's how it all went. i was a pessimist in a room painted yellow, you were a photographer who took pictures of my legs and my eyes and the constellations i never knew the names of. i was holding a grudge against dragonflies and roses, you were holding my book on Aristotle. i loved you quickly. i told you my secrets and my hopes and my dreams. my favourite colours. i gave you my calendar, the drawing i did of your hands, my ring, and that beating thing in my chest. -- every morning you would sit me on the counter while you made us breakfast. you would kiss me gently and i would touch the back of your hand as we smelled the ba

Today is the day that I'll draw something beautiful and write something powerful, and afterwards my heart will kill me because it's thirsty. I'll smoke nine cigarettes and drink myself to drowning. I'll forget all that I thought mattered because none of it ever did.

1. Sometimes when you text me, I'm on dictionary.com so that I can know what your fancy words mean. 2. Sometimes I cry when I look at the chair you sat in four nights ago. 3. Sometimes I buy hot pockets, and pepperoni pizza rolls, and bagel bites, because I know they're your favourite. 4. Sometimes I trace the scar you left me with my finger, and I pretend that you can still hold me when I make the cuts myself. 5. Sometimes I want you here. Unharmed, Unscarred, and Unsad. (I know that's not an official word, but it's my word. And I don't care if it's not in any books, because someday, it will be in mine.) 6. Sometimes M