god, how things have changed

it’s always weird when you

stand up,

walk away.

the couch next to me looks dented,

as if it were waiting for you to return.

my left side feels cold,

no longer pressed against you.

you come back,

sit down.

but we don’t sit the same-

we suddenly fit together

adjacent pieces to a wonderful puzzle.

you thank me,

for making our earlier conversation

easier than you thought it could be

with anyone.

for making it bearable

to say the words you said.

to admit that you don’t love her

like you used to.

you were only gone for a moment

but god, how things have changed.

Tainted Letters

Today is my 3 year anniversary here! I’ve definitely grown a lot over the years. Here’s a poem from my first month of writing~

Finnished with it all

And these words you stole

Once mine, now yours

More a foreign dialect

Than a common phrase.

More trauma

Than nostalgia.

You took my hopes,

Turned them inside-out

Tore them in half

And handed them back.

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I’m a little too sentimental about seniors

They’re not dead,

you say,

they’ve just graduated.

What’s the difference

if I’ll never see

or hear from

them again?

School isn’t everything,

you say,

those friendships don’t matter

in the long run.

It’s true, 4 years

are almost nothing

in the scale of a life,

but one death can hardly dent

the scale of eternity, either.

They aren’t dead,

but I am to them

as they are to me:

lost, forever.

Used to

I used to believe

in quiet mercy,

in silent forgiveness.

I used to believe

that people change,

that life moves on.

I used to believe

that nothing could break me,

that nothing could change me.

I didn’t account for meeting you.

I…

I wish I could go back to August

fight fire with water,

not fire

start with the truth

instead of ending with lies

I wish I could go back to August

be carried by love

not weighed down by hate

I wish I could go back to August

but even that wouldn’t change who I am.

 

When in Love

Happy National Coming Out Day!

Finnished with it all

holding hands darkangel-whitewings @ DeviantArt

We are all entitled
to love- to believe
in forever.

Yet if I were to say
that I love someone tall,
dark-haired, green eyed
you’ve already made an assumption.

You say he’s tall,
dark haired- green eyed;
you say he’s handsome.
I say you’re wrong-
because she’s beautiful.

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