When our story ended

I remember my friend Clara

telling me the dumbest words
I ever heard
in 22 years
of living a life
of total absurdity

she told me
I should not cry
because our story

but smile because it happened

dear Clara,
when I cry so much
I cannot breathe

or when I spend
nights without sleeping
because I am alone in my bed

shaking so much
the neighbors
go outside running faster than Usain Bolt
because they think there is an earthquake

it is not because our story ended

it is because
the second he put
his hand on my thigh
and looked at me
with eyes so bright
I got lost in them

I knew I had to run away

but I did not

and I knew that
if I got attached to him
he would eventually
get bored of me
and leave me shaking in the dark

but he got me with his goddamn smile
a smile so mysterious
it made Agatha Christies enigmas
look like amateur work

and the day he told me he loved me
I swear I heard wedding bells
in my head

and dear Clara,
if I am crying right now
it is partly because
I mistook fire truck sirens
for wedding bells

how stupid do you think
that makes me feel?

and dear Clara,
I am very sorry
but I won’t smile
because it happened

I will cry and scream at the sky
and forget to sleep and eat
because I’ll be busy drinking
disgusting liquor

maybe I’ll even
let other boys
kiss me on the thighs
even though they don’t even
know my name
to try to forget
how beautiful my name sounded
when he was the one saying it

I will do all of that
from the second I met him
I knew I had to run

but I did not

and the first time
we kissed

my heart was pumping so hard
I am sure he felt it through his jacket
and maybe he even woke up the next morning
with bruises on his chest
wondering where or how he got them

that day I understood exactly
how our story would end
he would look for another poor soul to break
and I would have a hard time getting out of bed
for months

and dear Clara,
if I am crying right now
maybe it is also because

at the bottom
of my shattered heart
I know that

I would let him
break me
all over again

if it meant
I could taste his lips

one last time.


If you ever meet a bad boy with eyes like honey, run darling, run before it’s too late.


(via goldenkintsugi)

a cluttered desk is a productive desk

I dyed my hair blue
and cut it short the other night.

I always hear about impulses to kill
on Law and Order.

Last night I had an impulse need
to change something about myself.

Something that you loved.

My long brown hair
that always smelled like green apples
thanks to Head and Shoulders.

So I went to the drugstore
bought bleach, blue hair dye, scissors
and a new shampoo.

When I got home,
I locked myself in the bathroom.

My mother knocked a couple of times
to check if everything was alright,

if I wasn’t writing poetry on my skin
laying naked in a red bathtub,

I told her I was doing something important,
something great.

Because a week ago
I was driving when your favourite song
came on the radio

and when I started to sing along,
I realized how awful that song was

and how I had been pretending
to love things I did not
when I was with you.

I guess that is when you know
a relationship is toxic.

So the other night
instead of changing something about myself
to make you love me

(what kind of logic is this?)

I decided to change something about me
that you dearly loved.

It is just when my hair
was all over the bathroom

that I finally smiled,

because that was it.

That was what I had to do
so your ghost would finally
stop haunting me.

Stepping out of the shower,
with blue stains on the curtains
instead of red ones,

I looked in the mirror
and I swear I heard your voice.

Maybe it was just your ghost
trying desperately to make me

fall back into my bad habits.

Or maybe it was just the bleach
and its strong smell

that clouded my thoughts.

All I am sure of is that
at that exact moment, I was over you.

Because I didn’t try
to understand what sounded
like your voice.

Because I did not care
what you had to say

about my hair,
my choices or my life.

And to be the master of your own life
sure is better than smelling like green apples,

just to make some stupid boy
like you.


He liked my hair long, so I cut it short.


(via goldenkintsugi)

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