God is such a cruel god for making you so wonderful, and for making me so weak.
I am starting to accept that you never loved me. And it's sad because I don't think you see how beautiful you are to me. Your face was the light that chased away the shadows, every nightmare, every fear. But you burned out and now I'm learning to be ...
I hate early mornings. But I love waking up with you.
You wanted to see the world. And yet, all I want is to see you.
To me you were home, to you I was just a vacation.
I envy the cup of coffee that gets to kiss your sleepy lips awake every cold and bitter morning.
Sometimes suffering is just suffering. It will not make you strong.
I love you as much as the ocean kisses the shore no matter how many times it is sent away.
I am the girl you fool around with, before you meet the love of your life.
And the next time I reach for my pen, it won’t be to write about you again. The sun will feel warm on my skin once more, and I will get drunk on the colors of the sky instead of tasting hangovers dripping from strangers’ lips.
The thought of you being with someone else is literally killing me. And you couldn’t care less. Because I am just one of the writhing bodies that ruined your bed sheets.
I used to arch my back for boys who couldn’t even remember the color of my bedsheets. But you, however, made me turnover the arch on my mouth.
You are neither coffee nor tea, you are just the right amount of whatever it is I’m trying to find.
