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Wednesday, October 27, 2010


Truth is I don't want to, but I still do

by ~graveyardprincess789


Love is you.
Love is me.
Love is something you can't see.
Love is nice.
Love is sweet.
Love will sweep you off your feet.
Love is soft.
Love is best.
You can feel love in your chest.
Love is great.
Love is kind.
Love is always on my mind.
Love is special.
Love you cherish.
My love for you will never parish.

telling a sad story backwards doesn't make it better

by *estallidos

it smells like grief and sterilized metal.
I climb into andrew’s bed, though the nurses have strictly forbidden it. he closes his eyes and holds me tightly, because he says when he can’t see me, it is easier to pretend I never happened to him.

he pushes the cart aggressively down the aisle, pretending to mow over old ladies doing their Sunday shopping.
"stop," I say giggling, lobbing a can of ravioli at him.

for a moment I think he simply didn't see me throw the can; it glances off his chest and falls to the floor, exploding in a pattern of red arrows. I don't notice his eyes rolling back in his head or the graceful way his body collapses to the floor.
the only thing I notice is the distinct thudding sound as his head hits the metal shelf and the screaming that may or may not be mine.

later in the hospital he calls for me and says he wants to apologize for keeping secrets, and the doctors launch into a medical explanation of his cancer.
their eyes are sad.

there are new shadows under his eyes that I know should not be there, but he ducks my bow and arrow assault, folding himself into me with soft kisses and quiet words.

“i’m worried about you,” i tell him. “i want to help you.”
“you already have.” he pauses. “i love you so goddamn much. will you remember that?”
“what, are you planning on going somewhere?” i tease lightly.
he doesn’t answer, and i begin to think he has fallen asleep there, his knuckles pressed against the drywall, until i notice his eyes, big, open, wet.
“talk to me,” i beg.
“there's nothing to say,” he murmurs, and closes his eyes.

after several months of trying, i find it is impossible to memorize every second of the indescribable time we have spent together—the chokey, throaty laughter, the untidy scrawl that falls from the tip of his long fingers, the freckles high on his cheekbones, the careful way he pronounces his “ing’s”and “ed’s”, as though he is afraid his diction is going to slip right out of his mouth and run away.

i know that these details are inconsequential, and i should just give up trying to remember them all.

i know i never will.

I almost don’t realize it when he holds my hand for the first time, his grip is so soft and questioning.

“i’m not going to break,” i tell him, tightening my fingers around his.
he grins crookedly and looks into the distance. “i have a lot to learn.”
“we have all the time you need,” i reply, and he just laughs.

it is one week, three days later before i learn my new friend’s favourite colour, favourite food, and what he wants to be when he grows up.

red. apple pie. alive.

I don’t know why i agreed to go on a ride with the near-stranger. he ceremoniously opened the car door for me and drove to a tree-ringed clearing.

“where are we?” i ask him, knowing that somewhere on the car ride here we have slipped into friendship without conscious realization.

“where we should be, i suppose.”

it’s no coincidence that the boy from the party sits down next to me at the counter two days later and orders a coffee, “black, naturally,” with a charming smile. he whistles an almost-familiar tune and glances at me out of the corner of his eyes.

“you and i are going to have some sort of future, i should think.” he pauses for my reaction, but i only sigh.

“look, i still don’t know your—“

I sit next to a tired-looking boy on the couch at eliot’s house, feeling alone and slightly drunk. i don’t know him. he glances at me and closes his eyes slowly, smiling.

i don’t know anything, really.

now the boy curls into himself defiantly, chin to knee, a too-angular sculpture, a mistake. he blindly reaches out from his cavernous self, like an afterthought, and touches me gently. i can see his dislocated shoulder blades bursting like half-fledged angel wings, and suddenly they are all i can think about.

“i don’t know you,” i tell him quietly as he intertwines his fingers with mine.

“i don’t know me either,” he says, and then smiles, luminous and hopeful. “maybe you could help?"

Love - 11/24/2003

Love is nothing,
Without a kiss.

Love is everything,
When you feel like this.

Love is precious,
When they mean everything to you.

Love is painful,
When they're not with you.

Love is priceless,
The true kind can't be bought.

Love is life...
When it's all you've got.

what to do

Truth is it hurts every time but I can't help but smile....

Do I need to say more than read?

Too often we hurt the ones closest to our hearts, and we let the most foolish things tear us apart

Stupid boy

Stupid boy,

Can't you see how broken she is?

[Broken like the mirror that lies shattered on the floor. Destroyed the instance she decided she'd never be able to look at her reflection and smile. The shards shine and sparkle in the light, but won't hesitate to cut you if you get too close. Don't try to repair it; those shards are too damaged to be put back together.]

Stupid boy,

Can't you see how okay she's not?

[Sure she puts on that fake smile and tosses her head back with laughter when you crack a joke. Always cheerful; always the shoulder to cry on. But, no one sees the dried up tears, rough and uncomfortable on her cheeks. No one sees the scars that line her body, each line signifying another day of her suffering. No one sees the suffering she hides inside.]

Stupid boy,

Can't you see she's dying?

[She's becoming more translucent every day, the circles under her eyes darkening. Her appearance more dishevelled, her voice fading out. That fake smile you love oh-so-much is becoming less and less frequent as time goes on. She knows one day, she'll fade away entirely. She's scared, she's lonely, and you're disgustingly oblivious.]

Stupid boy,

Can't you see she needs you?

have you? by xxcolor-my-worldxx

have you ever been so alone, so hurt, so hopeless that
you couldn't tell left from right,
up from down?

have you ever had your world torn apart,
ripped to shreds,
with the loss of your best friend?

have you ever felt your heart shatter into blinding shards of black glass,
each sharper than the next,
your soul mate found his true love?

have you ever had your eyes filled so full with tears that
you couldn't tell red from green,
stop from go?

have you ever been in such pain,
that you couldn't move your legs, your arms,
your entire being?

have you ever felt what I'm feeling now,
with nowhere to turn,
not knowing whether to live in agony or to die with regret?

have you ever found release
through music, art, love,

I have.
and so I have felt love, hope, and life.
you will.

trust me,
you will.

not feel loved

It's hard when you do not feel loved, but want to be kissed

not feel missed

It's hard when you do not feel missed, but want to be admired.

What Hurts The Most by by clarifyfear

What Hurts The Most?

Why are you doing this?
Don't ask stupid questions.
Why can't I tell them?
Don't even think about it.
What are you afraid of?
Drop the subject.
Why are you being this way?
You know the answer.
Are you ashamed of me?
Don't be silly.
You don't even want me around, do you?
Honey, stop it.
You're sick of me! Aren't you?
Just stop it with these stupid questions.
You hate me! Why do you hate me?
Because you're a freak!
Oh, right. I'm sorry for being a freak.
I'm sorry for existing.
I'm sorry that you're such an irresponsible bitch.
I'm sorry that you got banged at seventeen, and got pregnant.
I'm sorry you kept this mistake of a child!
Where are you going?
To my room, too take back the mistake you made!

What hurts the most? Is that you didn't even care enough to follow me. You didn't even care enough to ask why another towel was stained with blood. You don't care.

- T Brice Gordon October 26/2010

A joke

I took a chance
by loving you
I knew that you thought it
was a joke all along
but I thought maybe
this joke could end up funny
I knew there was a possibility
that it could end up hurting me
And that's exactly what it did
Jokes just hurt me


you said we'd be together forever. only thing is, forever ain't over yet.

good history

It's hard to let go of someone when you had good history with him/her.


...you apologized, doesn't mean my heart is magically fixed.


Love me or hate me. 
I'm still gonna shine!

Thinking Dreaming Being

Thinking Of You Keeps Me Awake. 
Dreaming Of You Keeps Me Asleep. 
Being With You Keeps Me Alive.

Dear Math

Dear Math, I'm tired of searching for your X.. She's not coming back, get over it!