Moona-257 - Things Ive Lost On The Way Here

something so quiet about his kiss, so secretive. his mouth wide open, swallowing truths and honey and hushed moans. hands that render me silent to everything, weak at the knees and falling head first into something so soft. something that’ll break my fall. passionate love that is not loud or arrogant. a love that beckons me towards it with little more than a whisper.

come teach me why flowers grow better with blood-based fertiliser. come bury me in the ripe plum of your body, tangle around me like ivy. see, im so tired of dragging around this empty casket of a mind. see, i know I shouldn’t but baby, I’m fucking hopeless over you.

the gentle hand reaching out from the grave. the wandering ghost and the haunting of a life that wasn’t meant to be. a life spent with you.

you were so bad for me, the way you bent me over my own grave and called it love. moaning into that demon’s kiss as I rolled my eyes in ecstasy, ready to give into this little death. ready to die and haunt the corridors of each other’s lives. how sweet destructive romance tastes on our lips, how empty all this is.

we made a graveyard of this didn’t we, honey? dug up too many skeletons and wandered too far from home, feigning surprise when we got lost in the dark. walking amongst our own destruction, holding each other tightly.

rotten love. dirty, rotten love that was dead before it even started.

↳ 3:27 AM — L.G.C.

he sighs and whispers that he loves me.

every single wave in the river stopped to watch me blush and crashed again when he leaned in to kiss me. rippled once his lips met mine.

the deep blue reflects onto the sky, the mirror of my soul. I’m ready to drown in this moment. drown in him. our love washes over our names written in the sand

how you move me like the moon moves the waves. how you leave me breathless, like I’ve swam too far from the surface, lost in the blue of your eyes. how the riverbed of my heart crumbles when you touch me.

Hozier, “As It Was”, Wasteland, Baby!

mustafa and I broke up today. My blue eyed boy is no longer mine. I expected tears to pour out of me, the ground to tear open, the sun to swallow herself with grief. but there is nothing. I feel nothing. he wasn’t the angel I thought he was, this picture perfect boy with a smile like gold. he was just a boy. screwed up and scared and flawed through and through.

said to me my body kept me with him. that passion overcame him and that’s he’s just a man. just a man. how could i expect him to be anything more. said to me the light in my eyes meant nothing to him. said he doesn’t see the point in staying. I felt the breath catch in my throat as we said goodbye at the edge of the river.

blue eyed boy. stay safe too.

am I condemned to a life of longing? seeing you laugh makes me go all nervous. watching your eyes light up as your grin threatens to shatter your cheekbones and the way the sunlight hits your hair in the summer as you twirl and twirl and twirl.

or the way your breath forms a cloud around ur mouth and condenses into the chilly night air in the winter. i’ve watched and witnessed and drowned in all the tiny things you do. and god, I’ve fallen in love with each of ur subliminal actions. each tiny quiver that your body makes. it fills me with want. i want. i long for you.

is it going to be like this forever? am I condemned to a life of longing? I would throw myself off the edges of your hipbones under the covers and drown in the tiny rivers under the translucent skin of ur wrists or sin in the holiness of your sweet kiss.

holy holy holy. if god had seen the way your eyes light up with happiness when you see me or the way your hair swings behind you like telephone wires in the breeze as you walk ahead of me he would have not written that girls should not lay with girls. honeyb, you are the most religious thing I’ve ever come close to. moans like a choir, hands clasped together in wanting.

i am condemned to a life of longing.

every time I talk about my own abuse for the sake of justice or awareness, all the words punch the back of my throat, a heavy thumping that spills from my mouth like the ugly mess it was. it’s still so painful and emptying and numbing all at the same time. It feels like I spoil the conversation, that I’m being uncouth or impolite. my story has no place anywhere.

a glass just empty, full of unoccupied space. a head tangled with words. I’m still confused about the concept of justice. and love. and forgiveness. it just feels unfair. just feels so wrong to make my own body’s safety into a movement or a form of activism. I don’t want to be loud or strong or empowered, I just want to be safe.

this world, full of its misogyny and hatred towards women, doesn’t help. The vilification of victims in the media makes me feel even smaller. the internalisation of misogyny, undermining my own pain because of my body’s “crimes” doesn’t help either.

my voice sometimes doesn’t feel like my own. my body never feels like it belongs to me. all this activism and anger and pain and I still can’t shake the feeling.

I worry about other girls. I worry about their voices being stolen not only by their abusers, or society but also by themselves.