my thoughts are too loud.

I can’t believe I loved you this much.

- I don’t love you anymore

but my glass is still full.

i’m a mess. i’m a horrible mess. how did i expect you to be able to love and care for me when i couldn’t return the favorite back. i’m such a mess. i can’t even stay long enough to make you want me the way i want you. god i’m such a mess.

i crave you. i crave the touch of your fingers on my skin. i crave the taste of your lips, but i think more than the way you mark my neck, i crave your smiles as i place kisses on your nose to your lips. and god i hope you understand how beautiful you look when your eyes flutter open to stare at me, cause i swear that’s how i know i can’t give myself to anyone else even though i’m not yours and you will probably never be mines. and i know it’s so stupid and i’m probably so fucked, but i can’t get the way you talk outta my head, your voice replays over and over and it doesn’t help that you’re so god damn beautiful. i would be the first to admit how taken i am but you. but i’m afraid of falling, and you’ can’t catch me. so please, please just give me a bit more time. give me a few more days to forget you.  

can you stay a bit longer? stay a bit longer, just until i don’t feel stupid for wanting to give you all the best parts of me when you won’t even let me see a part of you. give me five more seconds to take in your beautiful face, cause i constantly fear that this will be the last time i will be able to see you face to face. please just let me lay next to you. because i think i need more than the time it takes to pull up your pants and kiss me goodbye. because my heart needs more time to stop wanting and needing you. just stay a bit longer with me.

the butterflies in your stomach won’t stop fluttering when he smiles at you. when he says he misses you, you’ll want to believe him but your guts will scream for you to run as fast as you can. in fact, when he holds your hand, you’ll crave the warmth of his fingers, but he’ll crave your cold body. and when he places his soft lips on yours and kisses you, you fear that you’re going to lose him but the funny thing is, he’s not even yours. however, you stay mute. because, oh god, he’s so beautiful; and he speaks with passion in his eyes, and you’ve lost all the passion in your life. so when you tell him that you’re his, you can’t help but wish he would say he was yours too. 

Except; when you told me you loved me, I searched for the right words to say back, only to realize I was too broken to fix.

I want to fall asleep counting the endless freckles on your skin; the sound of your heartbeat reminding me how lucky I am to be alived at the same time as you. And I’m pretty sure I will never lose the urge to grab your beautiful face and just plant kisses all over you, kissing you until you lose all those silly fears that we will never work. I pray that I get to wake up every morning and find my smiling reflection in your eyes. And on my darknest days, I will be reminded that you are the ray of light in my life as I lay numb in your warm arms. But more than anything, I hope you allow me to hold your hand and follow you on which ever road you decide to take.

please don't ask me to trust you. not when more than half of the men in my life hurt the women who love them the most. not when i held my mother as she cried herself to sleep when my father didn't home home and she knew he was in another woman's bed. not when my uncle ran his fingers down another woman's body as my aunt slept in the room next door. so please, please, please do not ask me to trust you as you lay in another woman's arms.

But now I know. There are flowers growing inside of me.

he doesn’t understand what blessing he is. at least not yet… but i do. i do.

—  Six Word Story #121

my essence will be infinite;

my therapist asked me if i had time to myself how i would spend it. and the funny thing is, all i could think about was lying in bed with you, counting the feckles on your cheeks and tracing the scars running down your hand.

you often asked me why i stopped writing, i smiled telling you there was too much beauty in the world to stop and spill ink. later you would ask me why i started to write again. and i'll smile again, telling you there was too much beauty in this world to keep it hidden. but now i realize i write beacuse i'm trying to find the beauty inside me i lost along the way.