“When someone is crying, of course, the noble thing to do is to comfort them. But if someone is trying to hide their tears, it may also be noble to pretend you do not notice them.”—Lemony Snicket (via weaverofstars)
I have known great love before, a colossal, pure, magnificant love. I expressed this love without reserve, never shy with my affection. This love was sharp and bright and loud and certain of forever. The end was devestating. I have yet to feel such pain like it.
I always seem to find something in my mind that strangely connects you with me; It might be the simplest, tiniest thing; a movie recommendation you made months ago, some flower I’ve kept out of the numerous ones you bring yourself to randomly give me on cloudy days. I carry parts of you even in…
I think this is the beginning of something good Yet I’m afraid of what will become of it. Will you tire of me? Will feelings fade? Is this nothing but a temporary comfort? A phase? But even these questions Do nothing to purge me of the desire I feel For you For you my blood boils My mind hazed I feel nothing but your essence Even miles upon miles away Day after day I recall every dip of your abdomen and chest The broadness of your shoulders The hardness of your back And in these moments I no longer care Of insecurities that linger there
This mask I wear sunrise to sundown and even after hours will never go away. I masquerade and masquerade with no one’s aide but my own to quiet the suffocating screams and demons clawing and tearing the insides of my consciousness and soul.
And I do not know how much longer I will be able to bare this pain. This hollow, throbbing, excruciatingly aching pain that I show only in the shadows. I push it. I try. To the furthest recesses of my mind, I try.
Why do these old wounds feel so fresh? Just when I’ve found a bit of happiness.. A bit of hope, the past comes back to haunt me. I never should’ve opened that can of worms. Alcohol. It does that to you.
I’ve been beaten, battered, and bruised.
My heart’s been torn and broken. I’m used.
I’ll never forget.
So many times, I get back up and try. No use.
Will I always regret?
I’m living my life. Mending my wounds.
All of you.
Still haunt me with strife.
Like a knife delved so deep within my body, my heart, my soul..
It’s not right.
Why do these memories torture me so?
The night terrors, they come and go.
The never ending cycle. Just come and go.