I feel so brutally wounded,
like I’m the deer and you’re the hunter
who doesn’t realise the pain you have caused
until you watch the life leave my eyes
as your bullet pierces my heart.
Too many people in this world believe that suffering
will go away if you just imagine it isn’t there,
and you have no idea how badly I wish
that you weren’t like that.
I could bleed on your shirt, and you’d
pretend that it’s wine.
I could drown right in front of your eyes,
and you’d tell yourself I’m just diving into water.
I love you so much
that I keep putting on band aids
in attempt to cover the damage.
I love you so much that I’ll pretend
for the rest of my life,
if it means that I’ll always have you
by my side.

being with you hurts, but being without you would be unbearable, IS. (via wordsofindya)

I wish there was a better way to say this:
the way you yank smiles out of me like stubborn teeth
scares the shit out of me.

Trista Mateer (via tristamateer)

I could be by the beach
all by myself
there’s no one around
I’m listening to the waves
staring at the sky
and I’d have the company
of all the galaxies and stars
and I could do it again
all night long.
Or I could be by the party
with all my friends
we could talk about anything
and I would laugh
oh so often
but deep inside
I still think there’s a part of me
that never felt lonelier
than the nights when
people thought that
I was having the time of my life.

Loneliness is my nature // R.L

(via thoughtspired)

You have found someone new
and you can love her.
You can love her with
all your heart.

You can love her,
but you cannot take
her to the same snow-covered
garden
that you showed me
the day before Christmas Eve.
(Do you remember we kissed there?
You told me then that we would
move to Japan when we grew up.
I said that you were so
cultured and worldly.)

You can love her,
but you cannot press
your lips to her wrists
in the same way that
you did
mine.
Nor her forearms,
nor her neck.
(I haven’t been kissed since You.
I’ve been sleeping alone.)

You can love her,
but you cannot play her
our song
and make it hers.
Those notes were for us
and for our nights.
Those lyrics were
our bones and they’re still
a part of us.
(I still listen to our song sometimes
and get a little bit sad.
Do you?)

You can love her,
but you cannot idly
touch her hair
the way you used to
touch mine.
I was yours.
She will be yours, but
she will not feel the same.
Do not make her the same.
(I haven’t cut my hair since You.
I know you like it long.)

You can love her.
You can love her
with all your heart.
But you cannot love her
in the same way that
you loved me.
No, for
she is a different time—
a different You.

First Love (via thoseconstellations)

She’s something to write home about, so you do.
You slip her name into every other sentence of your letters because you like the way the syllables of her name coalesce against the snowy white of the page.
Your parents keep your letters, but they ask about the rest of your life.
You try to tell them, but all that comes out is her.

Your father reminds you that one day she is going to stop loving you.
There are things you don’t like to think about.
You remind your father that one day he will die,
that one day the Sun will burn out and the Earth will stop spinning.
You remind your father of the impermanence of all of this.
He says that none of his fears will happen during his lifetime.
You say that maybe yours wouldn’t either.

Your mother says she can see her in your eyes, in your smile.
Your mother’s gaze drifts down to the blood beneath your fingernails and the bite marks on your thighs.
Your mother asks, “she’s everywhere now, isn’t she?”
You point to the cross dangling from her neck and say,
“Your Savior is too.”

You love her so much that you are scaring them,
but you’ve never been less afraid.
You kiss her and your hands don’t even tremble.
Oh God, you love her.
Oh God, you’ve never been this brave.

How Much You Love Her (via poppyflowerpoetry)