is my smudged mascara, black mini skirt, bruised knees, red eyes, hungover state aesthetic enough for you?
screaming must be your love language. because you love me but you scream at me every time i blink.
for christmas i got a mind full of rage and a body labeled as a sex object. i guess i was worse this year than i thought.
do you think he’ll fall for frank sinatra at full volume and being wine drunk by 10am?
i will continue screaming at the sky until it can match the rage coursing through my veins.
as the dust settles, all i see is a mutilated version of who i used to be.
i yell at my mother with her same ruthlessness and out-argue my father with his same logic.
i’ll run away from you my whole life if i have to.
i’m suffering. sinking into the furthest depths of misery. and yet it feels holy.
how tragic it is, that my own brain poisons itself.
i wish you were laconic. you aren’t. you just don’t care.
my grief chases me. like a hunter and his very favorite prey. brutal, persistent, ruthless.
my heart mourns you for weeks. my brain takes care of my body while my hearts barely beats on.
i taste you, on my tongue. i taste us, on my tongue. i taste tragedy, on my tongue.
my brothers are the only people on the planet i would dare to call mine.
i love my brothers. it doesn’t matter that we come from different parents. they would give up anything to be there for me.
just a reminder: the mistress, the husband, and the wife all believed they had found their true love.
heaven is over now. the party got shut down. the amphitheater is empty. the bars deserted. usually so full of life but now; deathly silent. but they’re waiting.
even though we are not in love anymore, your mere presence puts me at ease. your body being in my vicinity calms my restless mind.
the clouds are as angry as i am.
i’m so afraid of becoming everything i’m running from.
sorrow is on my tongue. i wonder if you can taste it.
he loves me, he loves me not. he loves me, he loves me not. he loves me, he loves me not. he loves me, he loves me not. he loves me, he loves me not. he loves me, he loves me not. he loves me, he loves me not. he loves me, he loves me not. he loves me, he loves me not. he loves me, he loves me not. he loves me, he loves me not.
believe it or not, i am still very much in love with you.
from the moment i met you, i knew that you would change my life. to explain the love and the pain and the grief we’ve gone through would take years.
this summer’s haze feels like lifetimes ago. i was happy and tanned, eating raspberries by the river with my friends. i want her back.
hate seeps into my bones quicker than the chill in the air.
i’ve finally figured out what makes my life meaningful. it’s the color of leaves right before they fall, the quiet bliss after a friend leaves, the cool rain falling on my skin as i dance, the warmth of the sun wrapping around my body, and the feeling when a plane just takes off and you feel weightless. these are the things that i live for between grief and love and acceptance.
it is now december, and i have been feeling this way since july. that i am an impostor in my own life.
i will mourn this november for the rest of my life. this november i fell out of love.