Couple Years Flashin' By

Loving her was never going to be fair you know? 

its like trying to love a hurricane as its ripping through your sheets.

But she wasn’t always like that though.

She used to be the summer breeze as it whispered in your ear.

She was the sand in your shoe reminding you of sunny days on the beach.

Then she fell in love with her own hurricane and she was never quit the same.

He began as the ocean that she slowly let flow across her feet.

But before she knew it she was knee deep in the water, and soon 

she was swimming as far out as she could go. 

She loved the water rolling over her skin. 

Once she was too far out to turn back thats when the clouds began rolling in

The storm forced her under the water until her lungs felt as if they would collapse.

She began to love the burning in her lungs, the desperation for air, the blurred vision. But just as she was about to give in the storm brought her back to the shorelines tattered and bruised. 

She spent days and months on the beach hoping to be taken back out to sea. All she was given was the quiet whispers of the waves coming into shore. She spent her days chasing the storm, and nights in the warmth of others arms. She filled her lungs with cigarette smoke hoping for a moment to recreate the burning sensation and liquor to drown out the emptiness left inside. But she never was quite the same.

Like I said, Youll never forget your first hurricane. 

And now she’s yours.

- Clementine Von Radics

I wish I could see you one last time.

I wish I knew the last time was the last time.

It’ll never happen, but if it did,

I think my heart would stop beating. I think my lungs would refuse air.

And I think I’d die when you just look the other way without a care in the world.

The words don't come easy anymore.

Peter Pan once told me "never say goodbye because goodbye means going away and going away means forgetting"

The more time that passes the more it feels like our sentences really ended with goodbye.

I always thought that we were chapters of the same book. But I'm starting to think I'm a fantasy while you find your home in nonfiction.

The amount of time apart is creeping slowly up to the amount of time spent together, and it terrifies me.

Pretty soon I'll be the lost boy you forgot you tucked into bed.

Tell me every terrible thing you ever did and let me love you anyway.

Sade Andria Zabala, WAR SONGS (via wnq-writers)

I liked the way you let me break my own heart. I think I always knew I was safe to let you see that side of me. To see the broke down girl in the corner crying on her birthday. Because you’d always be there. But I know now that doesn’t always mean you’ll be in my life. We loved in the world of writers, we wrote each other into our stories and left them for the world to see. I will never be able to unravel you from those words, and why would I want to? In those stories lives a love so strong that it blew up so many lives. A love filled with sacrifice and two people finding their way back to each other over and over again. In those stories lives a love worth remembering. I used to compare us to the great love on the big screen, I think I was looking at the wrong ones. We found each other and burned too brightly this time around. But something in me can’t believe we won’t meet again and next time, we’ll get it right.

Because no matter how many goodbyes we’ve had, none have felt like forever.

I don’t know how I knew, but I did.

I could feel it in my bones. The silence crept in once again, filling the space that contained all my chaos. I haven’t heard a peep since. You know the silence kills me, I’ll lose my mind in the emptiness. But the thing is I didn’t know why the silence took over. I didn’t know why I couldn’t get it back. But then I saw the ring on her finger and it all made sense. . .

When she’s walking down the aisle to you I know I’ll be the furthest from your mind. But there’s a piece of you stuck in my veins. It’s the piece of you I know you’ll never share with her but you were willing to share with me. It’s the only part of me that isn’t dying slowly, knowing there’s still something you’d only be willing to give me.

I confuse people. i have a happy personality and a sad soul. i'm bold but shy. i love deeply but sometimes i feel heartless. i'm healing and hurting at the same time. i'm dedicated to growth, but i self sabotage

“We've had problems that we grow through”

I can still see his face as if he was standing here in front of me. The happiness, the sadness, the look that he had when he realized that he always wanted me wrapped in his sweatshirt. He looked at me like i was the answer to all of life's questions. He held me like i was the only thing he'd save in a house fire. And he loved me like there was nothing else that mattered in the world. And he fuckin terrified me, if i wasn't that important to myself how could i matter that much to someone else? Running away never worked because he was always faster than i was. Staying felt like i was being swallowed whole into the belly of his love. So I stayed balanced with one foot planted in the earth and the other flat on the pavement. I think that my uncertainty caused his to hold me a little less tightly, he didn't hold my gaze as long, and he didn't let me stand on his feet when we danced anymore. And that scared me too. It was just as hard to lose him as it was to let him love me.  “are we destined to burn or are we going to last the night?” I didn't realize that the roots that tangled around my ankle ran so deep. Because when he decided to be the one to run I couldn't break free of my purgatory to chase him. I watching his shadow get swallowed by the distance and the wind blew his foot prints right out of my mind. By the time that some one helped break me free he was half way around the world sending postcards from all the places we talked about. They began with the sadness still in his eyes as he stood alone wishing i could be next to him. But I was too slow to catch him, always one step behind with his scent lingering in the air. Eventually the happiness began to creep back into the corners of his mouth as he wrote that he was doing okay and wished the same for me. His final postcard came and she was smiling and holding the hand that used to be mine. His smile was back and he told me I should come for a visit, so i stopped chasing the ghost that i was following around the world.  “I learned in love and death we don't decide”  I returned home hoping that he would come back to visit, if his arms would ever feel empty without me inside them. But then I got wrapped up in the cigarette smoke and the city lights. I tried to dance with all the broken people i could find. But none of them let me stand on their feet and they always wanted me to take the lead. I didn't see him sneak in the side door as I clumsily took control from another . Once I saw his face I stumbled, and as I hit the ground the roots wrapped back around me as if i had never broken free of them. Two hands reached to help me back up. One that grew the root from a seed and the other that wanted to burn down the whole damn forest. And I lie there stuck wanting to let the roots and vines wrap around my entire body, wanting to give the control back, or to run from both until my lungs collapsed. How do you choose between the hand of the devil and the hand of a demon? 

i can only feel a thing in the summer, there's nothing left come winter.