And Tonight When You’re Out With Your Friends, And You Find Your Way Into A Girls Arms, And You Kiss

maybe it was the fact that nobody has ever made me laugh that much, or maybe it was the way I was cold and you gave me your coat and scarf, sacrificed yourself to the cold just to make sure I was closer to the sun. maybe it was the way you touched me and it felt like a magnetic force, maybe it was the way my safety was a priority to you, “please be careful on your walk home”, “call me as soon as you reach the door”, “be careful on the train, call me so I know you’re safe”. Maybe it was the way you healed every other heart ache. How you told me you were lucky that I was here. How I was so sure it was me and you forever. Maybe it was the way I forgot this was teen romance. And Maybe it was the way I forgot that any teen romance hardly ever makes it out alive. Or maybe it was the way you would say forever, and that whisper at night would be the lullaby that sent me to sleep. it’s more of a scream now. It used to make me feel so safe, so warm. Now it’s an ache in my stomach to hear, a catch in my throat that stops my breath. Maybe it was everything that turned into nothing. maybe I’ll never know. Maybe these words and these poems just have to be enough for now. Maybe it’s time to let go and say goodbye. But maybe I don’t want to.

right person, wrong universe.

Dear Harvey,

I never thought that I’d have to write a goodbye letter to you. I guess I just thought that we would end at least as friends, but it’s been two weeks since our conversation and I wonder if we just said goodbye without saying goodbye. This is the part where I start to wonder if the last ten months ever meant anything to you and if it was all just a moment in your life you’ll never think about again. Strangers to lovers and back to strangers again. I never was one for saying goodbye. Even if I see you ten years from now, I think my heart will still feel heavy. I think a part of me is ready to let go. To let what happened between us rest. Holding onto you is starting to hurt, and love should never hurt.

I do love you and the thing is... I’m only seventeen. And seventeen is a really inconvenient time to be in love with someone. I hope you know though, that I don’t blame you for anything. Sometimes people hurt other people and things like that need to happen for people to grow.

I think maybe we did belong to each other just for a slight moment it felt right. I’d like to blame time; she is an awful person to some. I don’t think she has ever liked me.

I’d like to blame those stupid books I read. The true blasphemy of literature is the romanticization of romance. They make it beautiful—all soft words, and elegant lines—and enchanting, with magic sparkling in the margins. And you can feel it in the depths of your soul, an unexplored ocean of laughter and tears and dreams all melded together. The yearning for a kiss that brushes against the steady and so so warm pulsing beat of life—against the smooth skin of a lover's neck. The desperation to touch another being and feel that they’re alive, right there next to you—right there, and never leaving. To love and be loved is a jewel among treasures and all that we each seek—all that we each desire.

It burns and it burns, and it burns. The never-ending ache of love and sorrow. Perhaps in some other life I could have refused, could have torn my hair and screamed, and made you face your choices alone. But not in this one. You would sail to Troy, and I would follow, even into death. But I'm afraid we have reached the end of our love story. I’m turning to the next page, and you’ll stay on the one behind. Only to be read when my daughter who in twenty years will cry to me about how she loves a boy so much it burns her. I did too. I still do.

I hope he knows that it’s him I love most. That from now, in every life, I’ll search for him. It always has and always will be him.

July.

July unfolds herself in a mess of aching limbs and a stretched-out heart. Swollen. A dream-haze. How slowly the summer months drift by; blush coloured clouds, coral lights, the world dusted in rose pink and a breathless awaiting. An awakening kiss. It seems that these days are a litte forsaken. The prince never comes/the angles stop believing in us. We breathe a sigh of relief. The sky relaxes her muscles and the birds fly home.

The end of whiskey bottles are supposed to make me forget you, not remember you twice as hard.

healing….

When the world turns quite and the sun fades away and there are no distractions to spare my heart the thought of you, and the only thing to be heard is the whistle of the wind or rain as it gently patters against my windows, it’s easier. I understand now why you left and I’m slowly accepting the fact that you won’t be coming back. I don’t choke or lose my breath to the idea of you with different women, but rather happy. Happy that you’re happy. stay safe out there buddy, I’m rooting for you always. 

for all the girls that were given price charming, but fell in love with the villain.

should’ve known better to try and love a boy who plays the electric guitar.

some nights may seem hard to get through, but throughout the mist, when the fog feels like it’s suffocating you and you can’t seem to navigate the stars. Please remember that the sun will rise again, and it will always rise again.