I’m not sure you like me

and that’s ok

fine line between love & hate, see?

It’s rarely any other way.

You admire my spirit

how it sparks and shines

then secretly covet,

jealousy blinds.

Your eyes skim my body

i know what you need

chemistry is never our problem,

in truth it's your greed.

Driven by ego

you punish & shame

hurling insults like snowballs,

seeking others to blame.

There once was a time

i’d make efforts to conceal

my soul in its prime,

so you could feel.

Those days have passed

i’ve uncovered the truth

free at last,

toll paid with my youth.

I’m not sure you like me

and that’s ok

truth is,

I never needed you anyway.

It’s nine at night in the middle of summer

and we’re driving with the windows down.

you’re screaming along to that boy band shit you like to tell me you hate

and moonlight spills across the dashboard and stains your ripped jeans,

glowing for a moment before ebbing to darkness.

Our hands move at the same time,

finding one another naturally,

my fingers dancing over the lines on your palm

as if they are searching for the answers to the universe,

stilling only when they realize your skin beneath them is the only answer I need.

Your eyes never stray from the road before us

but in the silence between songs

I watch a soft smile dance across your lips.

your skin is liquid silver

under the morning sun

and i am a riverbed

aching to be an ocean

the side of my mouth

crawled with thin cracks

and blooming crimson

until my skull is opened

i cement your fingertips

into the sins of my mind

with dried up mercury

mistaken for warm silver

- deathetix

I remember it perfectly. We were at the airport and it was time to say goodbye. After few months of working abroad, you were going back to your country and I was going back to mine.

And as we shared, although at that moment I had no clue, our very last kiss, I couldn't help but think "This longing will kill me".

I had this peculiar feeling that he's the one. And that the world suddenly split into two continents - the one with him and the other without him. I felt as if there was no air at the place I've lived. I was choking on tears and holding on to the memories because soon that was all that we were.

A memory.

First few weeks I was suffocating. Three months later I was sure I'll never love again. After six months I was tired of feeling the weight of my constant sadness. It's been months of back and fourth. It was a bad time.

Now, it's been almost two years since I last saw him and I can barely recall his brother's name.

I look at the world map and I see all seven continents.

And I think to myself that apparently, you can live without air.

#love #sadness #longing #breakup

She wore purple lipstick.

No one I knew ever wore purple lipstick, but she did. At first I thought maybe she was a little crazy, but soon enough, I got used to the dark color against her pale skin.

I got used to the unique clothes she always wore when I saw her on Sundays. I got used to her hair being a different color every month. I got used to her staring at me over the backs of chairs, as if I wouldn't notice her tiny form crawling around back there.

And I especially got used to her sitting next to me during the long sermons that I could never seem to pay attention to.

She never talked to me and I was too shy to start a conversation, but we had a mutual respect for one another I think, and that was enough.

Eventually she got adopted into my friend group and eventually I got up the courage to talk to her. Eventually we became close enough that as I was saying goodbye, she pulled me in for a hug.

I was only twelve years old, but I decided I liked her.

I liked the weird kid who wore purple lipstick and had a collection of pocket-knives in her backpack.

Four years later and she doesn't wear purple lipstick anymore. But she still dyes her hair a different color every other month, and she still peeks at me from over the backs of chairs when she thinks I'm not paying attention.

truly, i am cowardly,

yet capable of loving boldly.

honestly, I'm too subtle,

knowing no one ever truly settles.

sadly, I'm just far too wary

an unmarked grave you'll have to bury.

infinitely, I'm a gamble,

not to be taken in amounts of ample.

not meant to be taken lightly,

but made to be held so fondly,

and truly, in all my honesty,

i am lovely. stupidly, dearly,

frequently lively for you,

all encased in a forest green hue.

It's funny that Peter almost never came over to my apartment, although we were at his place often: Cambridge is a beautiful place to live, not that my residence was not. With Henry, later, it would be different. He lived at his parents' house in Oakland, near Lake Merrit, where we would play Scrabble and play a game he had created, kind of like twenty questions. I had a lot of questions, but those came later; phone calls and conversations that ended with other, better young women.

I realized I was in love when Peter talked about McLean at the first bar we visited, on our first date, when I was so nervous I almost fell of my bar stool in fright. He worked in the adult psychiatric unit, and somehow, we hadn't crossed paths, although just two months prior I had been a patient there. My anxiety was a complex emotional cocktail of damage left over from my ex-boyfriend, and drinking made it worse. I stuck to one drink, and we played shuffle board, and his soft demeanor left me dreaming.

Later, we would cook at his apartment in a snow storm, making something, perhaps with lentils. He had to do a night shift at McLean and drive through the storm to get there. I was in love, enough to want his job, his arms, and a relationship.

An awkward phone call two months after I met him resulted in him hesitating to invite me out to a music event at a bar. I ignored his hesitation, and when I sat again on a bar stool next to him, it was like a reflection of our first time meeting, although I was falsely confident this time. I didn't want to tell you this over the phone, he said. But I've met someone else.

Another slap in the face was to come later, in California, with Henry. I'd come to really, really like him. Perhaps in love, perhaps not, but he was like a dear friend. I didn't want to tell you this over the phone, he said. But I've met someone else. It had been two months of passion, ending with me perhaps looking like I'd been slapped hard across the face. I stared at him, and when he realized I wasn't going to take it well, he look bewildered. I was making him uncomfortable. I got up and left. With Peter, I had merely sat there, waiting for something incredible to happen, a retraction of disbelief and reality. But with Henry, having already experienced this parting of ways, I decided to give up on myself. I cried all the way home. With Peter, I had merely hailed a cab in stunned silence, willing myself to not replay the conversation, to not fall apart.

Being in love is a complex range of emotions, not unlike diving underwater, meaning to touch the bottom but only hitting slime. Perhaps you can keep going, but you'll drown. Simiarly, I needed to just let go of my relationships with Peter and Henry - it was sink or swim, go under or survive.

It's hard to be so committed, only to be told there's someone better.

Demoralized, I had no choice but to move on. It dawned on me that perhaps this is how things are supposed to be.

Perhaps this is how love is.

Right from the start, you stole my heart.

When I lay looking at the stars, or watching the passing cars.

A wish I no longer make, don't need a double take.

You and me, we're meant to be.

Changed my life when you came, I'll never be the same.

But that's okay, because I call you mine at the end of everyday.

Even when there's nothing to say, you still stay.

Somethings I never knew, that is, until I met you.

You're the only I truly love, so release the white dove.

When a relationship has ended, & you’re hurting but you know there’s no going back, why is it that you tend to idealize all the good times. You push back all the pain and anguish that your partner caused you and dwell on what you did wrong, making you feel inadaquate and you see your ex-lover as some kind of golden person. They don’t want you anymore; so you must be the bad person. Is time the only thing that will let the truth come to you, make you realize that it took 2..... it just ends in 1.

I don’t want to remember the things he took forgranted, because I know I took alot forgranted also. I don’t want to remember his lies because I too lied, but not as often. Just because I admitted to mine never made HIS go away. It takes a big man to admit when they are wrong....& there aren’t many out there that do. It broke my heart when I realized he wasn’t one of them. Most just get madder at you as they explain & turn the conversation around to something that you did wrong.

“All the things you did behind my back”....he said....

I guess I’m so stupid I wasn’t suppossed to see what he did behind my back. Or did he really think he was so perfect he didn’t make mistakes?

In reality...I shouldn’t expect the truth from someone who lies especially to themselves.

Things never spoke of....things that I KNOW. I could have accepted. Denial just closed more doors making the end inevitable.

I’m sorry, I’m dwelling....seems the only way I can make myself realize he wasn’t the 1.

But it doesn’t ease my pain.

When I met him...it was fanatical that first night! He made me laugh away all the trouble we had gotten into with his van breaking down & me just turning 20 away from home, stuck overnight (we had to sleep in the van!)

We would have died for each other back then.

Now different homes, different attitudes, different lives.

Built out of the ashes we left behind....talking...but never about the past except for saying I’m sorry.

Ashes aren’t really good life material, if ya know what I mean.

Sigh...it’s done.

& now I know just how much it cost me.

This is a post about @Just_useless_me on Prose, and they have been inactive for over a year. She/They/He are a bitch, and I have made several posts on them in the past. Please don't go hate on them or anything. This does contain the mention of sexual things, be warned.

I have been made sick over this, don't be the next.

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I am a very cuddly person. I can be aggressive, but I would rather keep to the two-three people I've got.

(Back when we were dating,) I was cuddling them, and I noticed something odd about their behaviour. They were making sexual... motions in my direction. I did nothing, thinking nothing of it. Well, I just wanted to cuddle, and She(at the time they used She/her) wanted sex.

Now, I didn't find out until a month or so after, when she broke up with me (She broke it off because I asked for help. I wasn't doing well emotionally, and she said I could ask whenever I needed it. Obviously not, dude.) I sat off of a bunch of shit, mainly just things she could contact me on, and so I thought about what I needed to do, wanted, and all that jazz. It took me two weeks to get over her, but that was easily the most liberating experience in my life. I realized how emotionally manipulative she had been, what she wanted out of the relationship, and why she really wanted to be over at my house all the time.

Now, I've talked to them (she and her current s/o) recently (I think their pronouns changed to they/them but I don't know and I don't really have enough respect for them to care) and she has changed significantly. I still don't like her, and I doubt I'll ever be friends with her again, at least not for a few years.

She knew I got sick at the mention of sex, and she really wanted to try it on me. I didn't realize what the fucker was doing and so I didn't confront her on it. Don't be like me, keep an eye on your s/o. (Not in a creepy way, but like, watch for tension, the usual shit.)

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I'm open to discussion about this, but it is what it is. I'm happy with my current s/o, and we've dated for a year.

Take care of yourselves,

Winter.