"I just need to know that it's possible that two people can stay happy together forever."
Almost 24.This ache in my chest is infrequent now- this longing, this nostalgia.Almost 24. by loopy-lexy
Unrequited love is a sorrow you’ll miss, I promise.
I need to feel this way to feel I have anything left to say.
I’m not sixteen years old anymore.
I’m almost twenty-four and I know what I want and who I want to be and who I want to be with.
And I’m fine.
And sometimes, when I’m lucky, when the window rattles with wind and rain and the air smells like winter, sometimes-
I still ache.
i wonder what you could possibly knowThe world is moving too fast for me.i wonder what you could possibly know by loopy-lexy
I can barely take a breath before
everything is gone or changed or
missing and I'm emptier than I was
yesterday, when I was as empty as I could be.
I turn on the porch light as though
I'm waiting for someone. And perhaps I am,
because not waiting is foreign to me.
It takes all my don't-wants to figure out what I do want.
I don't want to just see how it goes. I
don't want to be convenient. I don't
want to be an optional possibility.
I want to be a big event.
mankind is disappointing.when did you becomemankind is disappointing. by loopy-lexy
someone i don't know [if i
even want to know]?
june.I think it's your birthday today.june. by loopy-lexy
I should be certain but sometimes
it seems as though everyone was
born in June
and it makes me wonder
what happened in October '89
that had everyone making love.
I don't know about '89 but
in 2009 you were the glue mending
my broken excuse for a heart,
the breath in my every laugh.
I was addicted to your logical, reassuring mind
and ever-present promise of hope.
I was addicted to being needed,
to keeping all the secrets tearing you apart.
I miss being your turquoise terminator
and crumpled crumpet and saucy salamander
and effervescent iguana.
I miss complaining and over sharing
and knowing you'd listen to it all.
I miss believing we'd have that love forever.
So maybe I'll say happy birthday
and we can keep pretending nothing is wrong.
Or I'll pretend I forgot, the same way you forgot mine.
Or I'll congratulate you-
twenty-one years old
and still too thick to see how you've broken my heart.
a lista list of things i consider telling my doctor, but don't:a list by etre-aime
i'd tell him i am nothing more than fawn bones. i am no bigger than a pygmy child. or
i'd show him how my wrists snap off or how my fingers are smaller than his and i'd tell him to make a note that reads: 'her fingers don't work well' and one that says: 'she tries.' and then i'd tell him to cross it out.
i'd tell him about counting tiles and forgetting to swim. i'd give him the definition of apathy.
i'd tell him how i stole silver spoons and then threw them away.
i'd show him fragments of paper from that time i tore apart the maps. that time i burned the instruction manuals. and
i'd make him look at my feet. i'd tell him that they're covered in mud and that they are the most pure thing i have.
he'd make a note: 'muddy feet' and i'd cry. i'd confess.
ididitididitididit. i broke the lamp. i broke ties. i broke.
i'd draw him a
resolutioni.resolution by oddkward-haiki
we've been awake for three days, and
everything sounds beautiful in our heads.
it will be another twenty-four hours
before the smoke starts to clear.
it rains harder than we could have hoped for.
you watch the entire world
from your spot in the center of it, and
i watch you
getting soaked to the soul.
(now you're as cold on the outside
as you are on the inside.)
it's one a.m. on a sunday, and
"oh shit, i love you too."
you leave a message for me
on my phone, in your voice, between the lines.
it takes me two more days
to realize that you're long gone
i spend three days vomitting
prewrapped words and unopened love.
and, oh, by the way
"this is what i wanted."
it's christmas again, and
i still can't do anything right.
and six days
before i start to forget
what your hands feel like.