But what if I never get over you?
What if I continue to wake up every day of my fucking life & want you so badly that my bones shake so much that they feel like they’re going to break?
What if I keep waiting for a call or a text or a sign from God that never comes?
What if you were the one but I wasn’t?What if you never loved me back? (via caramelcoatedxxxtacy)
Lang Leav, Lullabies
last night I cried myself to sleep
because at this point I don’t know if you’ll come back in two months, ten years, or not at all.
and it’s not fair for me to spend my life waiting.
but the thought of moving on makes me even more upset.
so once I finally fell asleep,
I dreamt you were there with me and I remember the way your lungs moved underneath your chest.
I dreamt your back was to me and I traced every freckle with my hand in the morning light.
I dreamt I kissed your shoulder - the one that always gives you problems - but then I woke up.
And in that sleepy haze I just wished your side of the bed could be full again.
I wanted to see your freckles instead of staring at the wall.
You’re always who I miss. It doesn’t matter if it’s 9 AM or 10 PM. Noon or midnight, 2 PM or 4 AM.
It’s always you.
Please come back.
This is not your destruction.
This is your birth. n.t. (via astrasperas)
I haven’t brushed my hair in weeks so tonight
my mother sat me down and ran a comb through the knows
honey, she sighs you have to get better at taking care of yourself
I’ve heard that keeping flowers after they’ve died is bad luck
but they never tell you what to do with the heart rotting in your chest
the smell is starting to alarm the neighbors they stand outside my window chanting
something must be done something must be done
I pull the flowers out of my closet and shove them to the bottom of the dumpster
my hand comes out with bits of trash clinging to it
but this is just my way of showing I’m trying to get better.
I still drink more wine than water
but I’ve started to look at my veins without wondering what they would look like split open
and I think that’s what my shrink calls progress
my sister gave me a stuffed animal of my greatest fear as a joke
but I don’t think it’s funny that I sleep with it every night
hold it to my chest like it’s salvation instead of damnation
I welcome monsters into my bed and set a place for them at breakfast
leave sugar out for their coffee
I’ve always been so good at loving monsters.
The last boy I kissed meant nothing to me but the last one in my bed is haunting me
I threw out the shirt I was wearing when I first met him even though it was my father’s
and any coffee mugs his lips touched are cracked in my trash
The last time I talked to him I said I just want to be the one you love best
and he cried because I wasn’t.
I wish the pictures on my wall could talk, that girl looks so happy
speak to me speak to me the night is so quiet
I’m too fucking sentimental these poems are getting me nowhere
how many pens have met their end while I try to explain this
how many notebooks have been destroyed while I try to bury this-
I wallpaper my room with my efforts and swallow the fragments
they glitter like crystal and scrape my throat the whole way down and still,
the only way I can fall asleep is underneath a world map
dreaming of places far enough away
that my heart forgets yours is beating too.