angelic poet

How Reading ur old journals feels like

No, cuz why have I been having the same problems throughout them

I look back at the memories just to feel it again

to remind myself it wasn’t fake.

I want it to swallow me whole,

yet I want to stay as far away from it as I can.

I just want an excuse—

an excuse to give up.

It’s stupid.

I can’t tell what’s real anymore,

or why the memories keep reappearing

in the middle of class,

taunting me,

taunting me.

I press lightly on my leg

to remember that it’s healed

The air was fresh.

The sky, a pretty dark blue.

Kids, boys, families

swimming around, laying on the sand.

I could see a mist near the streetlights.

I smiled, watching them play with the waves.

Some of them rolled their pants up

to step in.

And right there,

it hit me.

I could no longer be so carefree.

Because as soon as I roll those pants up,

everyone will see.

These scars.

So I stayed back and watched.

Watched them laugh.

Watched the view.

Feeling... ruined

That I could never be that girl anymore.

That these scars are stopping me

from living in the moment.

No tears.

Just silence.

And a lump in my throat.

Her touch makes me melt into a soft child

It breaks the hardened parts of me into something whole ,

something that can finally breathe

We were naked infront of eachother

she saw my scars, I saw hers

Silent shared stories we never had to explain

We had soft hushed conversations in the back of class

Our eyes spoke a language only we could understand

One day, she caressed my scars absentmindedly

like taking my pain as her own

Saying she loved each and every dark part of me

I feel a part of my soul in her, I miss a girl I've never met ,

maybe she's a dream,

maybe I'll meet her one day

and she'll have been waiting for me too