Posts tagged lost love

this time last year,
two days after my birthday
(which we spent together,
flirty sexy kissy smirky discovery)
we were driving to minnesota
(stopping at the sketchy subway—
“look to see where we were,
because i NEVER want to go
back there again”)
to my childhood best friend’s
wedding.

reading the monster of florence
aloud to one another
as we took turns driving,
and you brought the stuffed monkeys
i bought for you with us
and they played on the dashboard
and you held my hand against the console
and we learned each others’ musical tastes
and had flashback hour, back to middle school,
alternating songs (wait, that was on the way back,
not the way there, when you told me you loved getting
to know more about me
and loved that you loved the things
you learned about me,
and the day before THAT you told me
you had committed to me in pretty much
every way possible,
but i’m getting ahead of myself on this weekend)

we arrived at the hotel
after midnight, sticky sweaty sleepy and
you suggested we shower
together
(after you tugged down my scared hands
covering the marks and scars
on my skin, kissed my hips
and tugged down my walls gently
with light fingertips and butterfly kisses)
and we made out in the shower and filled
the tub and lay down and watched
the steam rise from us
(and dumping cold water—no, wait,
that’s also later)

and dressed and toweled off and sprawled
in the king-sized bed watching civil war
week because the history channel was
our shared love and moving on to curling into
each other and then mouthing at each other

and gripping and tugging and rolling and
licking and biting and tightening and digging in
and laughing and gasping and wanting and
needing and giving and taking and begging and
melting and settling

falling asleep curled together
your face at the back of my neck
and hands twined around my stomach
(like that night, so many months before,
before we were US, when your hands
landed there and i shied away and you
told me i was beautiful, not skinny me
was sexy and gorgeous (and you told me
the same thing about the dress i was going
to wear the next night of this story) and
held me against you)

and my nightgown tangled
between our legs as your breath
melted into my hair and
my eyes closed on the wish
of us.

(Source: nearlyayearofmagic)

boxwineconnoisseur:

i have never kissed a boy
and my left wrist is a mess

they are both manifestations
of issues that i don’t have

i write about some of them
the ones i can articulate 

(via elizabethkate)

i think i am slowly
withering up inside
my own brain.

just creeping out
now and then
to see the world

before sleeping
curled up in
my despair.

(Source: nearlyayearofmagic)

i’ve been sitting here
for the better part
of two weeks
trying not to write
about you.

trying to convince myself
i can write about anything
other than you.

trying to convince myself
that i don’t NEED to
write about you anymore.

but then that pain
came out in waves
shooting under my fingernails
beauty into the beast,
not the other way around,
seeping down my thighs
to puddle at my feet,

wrapped safely in the
agony
of you.

in convincing myself
i didn’t need to write,
the plug dug in, gripping
talons beneath
my veins,
words trapped, fireflies
in a glass, desperate
tizzy of motion

expelled out.

in convincing myself
i didn’t need to write,
i contributed
to my own downfall.

(Source: nearlyayearofmagic)

when we spoke
you sounded fine
like not having me
in your life was
something you hoped for.

i can’t get over the
betrayal of you believing
that this was me, and
lying to me about wanting
to work on us, and telling
me that you hoped we’d work,
and turning your back on me
and what COULD be with us
as soon as i got sick.

and for saying those things
when you knew i was sick.

i’ve been crying for two
days, salty sweet taste
of you in my mouth.

(Source: nearlyayearofmagic)

i miss laying
in your bed
and watching batman
cartoons and craig
ferguson comedy specials
while we waited
for things we
weren’t sure we
wanted, or weren’t
sure would happen
and you curled
around me every
time and i
never felt as
safe as i
did in your
arms.



we spoke the
other day and
it gave me
stupid foolish hope.



you’re gone forever.

(Source: nearlyayearofmagic)

slowly
from the inside out
little tendrils of poison
creeping out, little
slithering fingers
gleeful scratches
at my psyche
nails tipped in someone
else’s blood
(my blood?)
weaving through my brain
activity stopped,
zoomed,
refocused:

the viral attack of
everything i thought
true.

weakening what i thought
was a strong
immunity
built up over
three months
of inactivity,
hardened and sheltered
from the likes
of me,
scarred over and
scabbed under
and finally somehow
free of the disease.

whispers, oh so sly,
slithering in, sparking
interest, perking up,
ears cocked, listening,
taking in
deluded, detached
information.

greed curls around hope,
tiny little seed of wishfulness
clinging to the stem,
blowing away
most days
from the heat of the
air on the back
of my neck,
flushing scarlet
as desire is taken
over
by fear.

yet the words
you speak,
the tiny little
black and white
on a fluorescent bulb
burning into my flesh,
seek out the sleeping
hunger need want hope…

hope.

no matter how hard
i try
to block out the sounds,
hands digging
into ears
peeling away at
my cortex
vortex
cerebellum,
the burning
singes,
fills my throat,
words permeating
penetrating
debilitating

flushing water
into the seedling
bursting open
fast forming
lush with apples
fruit of sin
wicked stepmother’s
voice in my ears

take it bite in
one wish coming true

serpent sliding out, a
vine against my skin,
tail curling
seduction around my throat
(like the memories
of your hands)

the tart crisp surprise
of gasping death
tangled by my own
design.

(Source: nearlyayearofmagic)

going on the late lunch today
and it reminds me of
when i used to take
late lunch
last summer
and curl into
your bed
before i ate
with your sister.




this hurts so much today.

(Source: nearlyayearofmagic)

(Source: nearlyayearofmagic)