What hurt the most was knowing
You’re the person I’d want to call
making meaning
What hurt the most was knowing
You’re the person I’d want to call
the way you talk when you’re vulnerable is full of pauses. you’re holding back so you don’t hurt. you say “I” and then you give a half laugh, your breath gets caught in your throat because you’re close to crying but you don’t want to let yourself, you second-guess yourself but you’re going to say it anyway – whatever it is. you’re so mad, you miss me, you’re sad or insecure or lost and don’t know how or what to do. because I hurt you
April 2017
Pins & University
//
twirling under the first warm rain of the season, alone and free as a bird
I laugh as I take off my flats and jump in the puddles that are already forming
if only playing in this early summer storm was enough
it would let me forget
but how many times do I have to spin and how fast do I have to run to get away from the memories of the boy I love
who, after all this, doesn’t think I’m enough
But I’ll never be enough for someone who hates who they are
thunderstorms surround me
and the sharp gravel of the city streets crunches underneath my bare feet
my blue suede skirt twirls in the purple wind; the grey-indigo sky turbulent
As the wind becomes a roar and the caress a downpour, I follow the yellow lights back home. Hoping and dreading, knowing you’ll be there, too —
No matter where I go or what I do, I can’t seem to get away from you
February 2017
“This Town” – Niall Horan / “Suburbia” – Troye Sivan
//
after feeling it all fall apart with the boy upstairs, visions of Heathers dance in my head
as I lie in the darkness, alone in bed.
So scared of losing the God I used to idealize
I know I’m supposed to draw, or sleep, but all I can do is wait and play these two songs on repeat
Snow falls on the cold city outside my window
where everyone I care about
is out
without me
Night lights
blue black and purple-grey clouds
obscure the illusory love with fog and doubt
Nostalgia embedded in every street of the blue neighborhood in California I used to inhabit
Was it ever real? The love Lana sings about? The one that matters, the one that I so badly want to feel
I always think I have it
until a month goes by, and it’s no longer ride-or-die.
they were never what I wanted; it’s the idea I’ve always been in love with.
desperately mourning something that never was
I feel so alone
though the voices on my phone
tell me I am loved
the voices in my head
ask if it’s enough