Best Days

Who knew Mondays could be bearable?

.......I'm going to be published!
Never doubt your potential.

Gonna come round soon

You know that post I had that I deleted? Yeah, well, that was stupid.

I sit in my bed
And wiggle my toes where they once touched yours
Your notes, once paper
Feel like fabric now
I was ready to tell you, but you weren't ready to listen
No, you turned your head
Can't you tell you're just making my mistake?
We felt like children
But now we feel like doctors
Dissecting every word
Prodding at each problem
Searching for a diagnosis.
I hate doctors, you know.
You were stupid and drunk and you chose her instead
Because you felt sorry for her
If only you knew what I had been through
Maybe then we'd be stupid and drunk together.
You wrote three letters.
"P.S. Remember that everybody loves you and you're really amazing and perfect and unbelievably beautiful."
"You really do change me."
"I'm going to see you tomorrow, and you'll make my whole week better."
Spoken word is impermanent
Fading as soon as they release from your lips
But what you wrote
Will never leave
And maybe if you let me tell you my story
You won't leave either.

Guess who's back, tell a friend

I wrote this a long while back, debated posting it, then pushed it aside. But you know what? I don't care. So here it is.

I fell in love when I was fifteen.

We sat on the slope of a hill, and his head was in his hands. Tears threatened to fall, but I know he wouldn't let them.

"I'm sorry," I repeated for the twelfth time. "I can't change what I feel."

It had been a seven-month whirlwind, from my skin being stuck to the leather in his car from kissing for so long, to three hour long phone conversations, the picnic table soaked with my tears as the realization that everything was back to haunt me had sunken in.

He held my hand, he kissed my cheek, he made me dizzy with every touch, and we were in love.

But now he didn't understand. I stared at the middle schoolers playing soccer, and every time I closed my eyes, I prayed to a nonexisting god to switch places with one of them, to go back to before my heart was torn, hanging onto the last stitch.

His eyes told me that he heard me, but his body sent a message of confusion, and I knew I had broken his heart as well as mine.

He stood up and walked up the hill, stopping at the top. I followed him, more tears falling at every step.

He kissed my cheek one last time, tasting my tears, then got in his car and drove away.

"I always loved you" was the last thing he said to me.