The shell is sometimes the most beautiful thing <3

 

I could write a book with all the lies you tell,

all of which I now know by heart.

I know the meaning behind every squint you make,

and how you have a shortage of breath every time

you catch my smile.

 

I know it pains you every time I softly decline.

 

I could write a breathtaking symphony with

the things you’ve said to make me smile.

Making me dream, taking me high, hoping

to be the one and only you claim at dusk and every night.

 

I know you would love to own my heart.

My body is your ultimate desire.

 

I could tell you lies, sing you lullabies.

Sweet whispers in your ears every night.

I could take you high, Claim your kingdom mine.

Be your one and only queen ‘til the end of times. 

The Lie

Photo Credit: Pure-Insomnia

You say that’s not love,

wanting to be free as the wind

while still having someone to hold.

I say that’s nonsense.

Love isn’t being confined to a place

for something that will end

Eventually.

You say You love me.

I say I love you too.

You stay, and confine yourself

Just so you can confine me.

I confine myself, for you.

Sometimes…

Sometimes I think about you

and of your scratchy skin rough

against my neck.

Sometimes the moon reminds me of us,

and of the words I rhymed under your name.

Sometimes I pretend not to care.

Sometimes I give in in distress.

STUCK

I’m stuck between reality and an ever-lasting dream.

Between what is and what could be..

Between a smile and shedding tears.

I’m stuck between who I am and whom I’d be

Holding on to the idea of how good things could be.

Being fooled with the sweetness of your words.

Being trapped into this prison you call love.

I’m torn between infatuation and desperation;

Days filled with agonizing frustration.

Every rising sun a call for more.

Every sunset witnessing unhealthy love.

Tired.

 

I’m tired of trying. 

I’m tired of crying

Im tired of running

into your arms. 

 

With such desperation 

And no hesitation 

I gasp for air 

Crawling out of your arms.

 

Would you give me a break-or two?

 

I’m tired of warm tears

I’m tired of wishing

Tired of imagining it another way.

 

I’m tired of this us,  

Im tired of that you,

I’m tired of this me, 

I’m tired like hell. 

She…

She has so many flaws you don’t know where to start. 

Her hair doesn’t fall in the right way anymore, 

and the sunlight does not make her eyes shine anymore. 

Her smiles has stopped making your days brighter.

The cracks in her soul are visible now on her skin, and she always seems she’s about to cry, or maybe her eyes just tend to frown… Her and her hooded eyes.

And her voice, once so angelical, is now cracked and not-so-good, the curves her dress does not accentuate are always present, morning, night, and noon.

She does not make you smile anymore, but she does not make you cry. (Emotionally) She doesn’t make you… anything.

But somehow, still… you love her, because deep down in your soul, you believe your wife is someone you should love.

The Second Chance

I gave him a second chance. (the fourth, actually -but none had been this ‘drastic’) After suffering for weeks, and expecting something that never came, I had given up on him, I had given up on me giving up on him. I had given up on us, or the illusion of us I used to had.

I was happy, with short moments of slight sadness/depression. I was content with life and everything it could offer me. I was proud of myself for having walked away.

“Time to Open up new paths” I’d say again, and again.

But sometimes what we say has little or no real meaning.

The day after breaking up with him I felt free. I felt the weight of having to worry about his “tight” way of thinking brush off my shoulders. I felt like dancing again, and drawing again… I felt like it was my time again, as it used to always be. I have to confess, regardless of those moments in which I missed what we were and got sad, Happy was my normal state of mind.

But the rabbit hole is never too far from Alice. 

He came back, as was expected, and eventually I gave him a second chance.

That was almost two weeks ago. I’m still waiting to see what happens.

 

.Art taken from Naomi

You~

…And then there’s You,

and the way your eyes crease up as you smile

Making my every bone shiver.

Photo taken from Agnes Cecile

Daily Prompt: Me Time

Ummm.. Since I’m playing on breaking up with my boyfriend tonight I’d say my perfect Sunday would consist of waking up in my beach house. That’s the one place I like to go just to relax and be calm, (or to go party and happily life live) and in which I feel I can meditate about my life and what awaits me. Perfection, on this very moment, would be waking up and walking towards our deck, just in time to see the sun come up, reminding me that it will always, ALWAYS be bright, no matter how bad things may seem right now. We just need to change our perspective on things. We just need to understand better days are ahead. A perfect Sunday morning-wake-up would be having the combined sounds of roosters and waves wake me up, feeling me with that sort of peace only waves can fill me with. My perfect Sunday would consist of waking up to an empty beach, because the moments I enjoy the most are the ones in which I have complete privacy. It’d be Waking up in a place too far for anyone to just show up, and too remote for cell phones to really work. It would be to wake up in that little paradise I can gladly call home, so I can completely relax and get my head and heart together.. or as much as I possibly could. It would be to TRULY understand, on that Sunday, that sometimes your heart takes paths that are not best for you, that it’s better to be hurt and heart-broken than to be mistreated and fooled. It would be to start healing, slowly, but surely, until it does not hurt anymore to think of the last few days. Until I can understand. Until remembering doesn’t bring tears into my eyes as it just did. It would be to start the not-resenting him process, so I can truly be happy and move on without caring about him, even though -knowing me- I doubt that will be the case.

A perfect Sunday would be one in which my heart understood what my mind just realized, and the hurting ceased to exist.

…And after that Perfect Sunday, I would want to just stay there for a couple of more weeks, because a day is not enough to start healing about something that consumed every bit of your soul, for over a year.

 

I’m Sorry

I’m sorry but you won’t find me running

after someone that’s trying to be chased.

My heart  can’t and won’t.

I won’t refuse to let go.

Don’t worry about me,

I’m sure some random day I’ll be okay.

Regardless of the numerous sunsets

in which I’ll cry my eyes away.

I’m sure the scars won’t fade.

The hopeless lover will fall through the cracks

and loose herself.

Sure after this won’t see love the same way again.

I’m sorry, but my heart’s too fragile and so am I.

You’ve destroyed my heart, but I still got my pride.

Regardless of it all, I hope you find your way home.

And find true love somewhere along the road.