one night stands

I inhale the murderous smoke,

the thought of you always on my mind,

I exhale,

and remember the times when you were mine.

my eyes begin the water,

the memories of you with her flash through my mind like photographs,

I recall the way your lips touched hers,

the way you pulled her in,

the way you looked in her eyes,

the way you smiled.

I remember how your face crumbled,

how you looked at me with shock,

how you ran at the speed of light,

how my face was an emotionless mask,

how all I could hear was roaring and ringing,

how you chased me till I lost the will to fight

how you screamed that she was nothing,

how you screamed that you loved me.

I almost believed you and fell for your compulsive lies,

I looked behind you and I saw her face.

a face full of sorrow heartache and pain

then I recall how you looked in her eyes.

then I knew everything we had was a lie.

so I let him go. to be with her.

cause even though he was a player I knew he loved her

and I know I loved him more,

I loved him so much that I had  to let him go

I never said that it never hurt

it felt like being stabbed from ever corner to know he was never mine but hers.

but who am I to disrupt fate and what the fates have planned

maybe I’m fated to a long list of one night stands.

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Lottery Ticket

I would die for you,

take a bullet straight to my brain,

a knife in my chest,

lay down my life,

take my last breath,

venture into the unknown which is life after death,

if theres even a life at all,

let myself fall into the uncertain.

would you do the same for me?

would you take a bullet straight to your lungs,

a knife in your leg,

hoping for a heaven and even a hell.

its crazy.

absolute madness.

how certain I am that I would give everything up for you,

and how unsure I am that you would do the same.

it like buying a lottery ticket,

its like answering a 22 mark question and praying you got it right,

because in the end you either get what you want,

or you fail,

life is a gamble,

and sometimes it always feels like your losing.

 

There was a time,

when I thought I knew how much I meant to you.

Now it just feels like a knife in the back,

and a bullet to heart.

 

even now.

with everything I now know,

with all this knowledge I have acquired,

with a firm grasp on how much I mean to you

If the bullet were to fly in your direction,

if the knife was to pierce your chest,

if the angel of death was knocking on your door,

I’m sure,

that I wouldn’t think twice about my next move.

 

 

The Platonic Breakup

No one talks about a friendship ending.

No one talks about how its feels to lose a friend.

It might sound dramatic, a bit silly, stupid even. But think about it… how does it feel when you to lose someone that was so close to you? someone who almost felt like family? someone you thought was going to be there for all of your achievements and you for theirs? someone that you’ve known for years and was convinced they would be there for many more?

I was watching Sabrina Benaim spoken word poem called “On Platonic Love Being a Real Thing”. Contemplating what she meant, and how the universe somehow knew that I needed to watch that video at this very moment in time. Where I was starting to lose faith that people knew what true friendship meant. That I even knew what true friendship meant.

There is such heavy importance on when you breakup with your significant other. But everyone seems to dismiss the importance of platonic relationships. How they shape your views on relationships altogether. How they affect the way you love. How they affect the way you view other people. How it feels to breakup.

I’ve experienced many platonic breakups. It feels as if the older I get, the more painful they become. The more aware I become on how much I care about the people closest to me. Like any normal breakup, you consider why the other person doesn’t care as much as you do. Even though you instigated the breakup because you no longer felt cared for, listened to or respected. You thought… at least they would fight. To then come to the realisation that not everyone has your heart and not everyone deserves a space in there either.

How to deal with a platonic breakup is to allow yourself to feel hurt. Allow yourself to reminiscence. Allow yourself to be grateful. Allow yourself to stop being angry at how it all ended. Remind yourself that there are people out there that know and understand the true meaning of friendship. Remember that you don’t always need answers, sometimes it better to not know why.

Most importantly, you have learnt something. You have gained knowledge. You have grown and maybe the breakup was a message from the universe to remind you to trust yourself. To never second guess your choices. To remind you not to love less, but to love wisely.

To ensure that you will always value, love and care for the ones that stayed. Even when they didn’t have to.

 

Once a Home.

a breakup leads to a broken home.

where the hurt resides and survives

not matter how hard you try to leave it behind.

I just find it difficult to say goodbye.

 

I know this is the time.

To switch off the lights in the house we once kept alive.

I was the only one still paying for the light.

while you were standing outside,

busy admiring the house on the other side.

No matter how hard you try,

to keep food in the fridge,

the house clean and warm,

the garden full of life.

You can’t stop the power going off,

the food reaching its best before date,

the house collecting cobwebs,

the garden slowing deteriorating.

You can’t stop the love from dying,

even if the love is still there, hiding, inside.

 

I want to destroy the house we built.

Rip it apart, brick by fucking brick.

Set it on fire and watch everything I love and hate burn.

But I decided.

To let the house stand until it falls.

To let the paint strip itself,

to let the cabinets get all dusty.

The house is too valuable to destroy.

I still want to walk around sometimes and reminisce about the good times.

 

But at the end of the day,

I’ll pick up my bag,

put on my hat,

walk away with my head held high, and a smile on my face.

Knowing that one day,

I’ll stop visiting

and never open that door again.

 

Horror Stories

Was always so blind.

I didn’t comprehend…I didn’t see

That all I wanted and needed was right in front of me.

Waving, smiling, laughing, shouting , running, reaching

Fingertips nearly touching,

Hearts nearly close enough to perform a synchronise beat.

But eyes looking past,

Eyes wide,

Eyes blind,

All the things I couldn’t see.

I let them just walk right past while I focused on only me,

My dreams,

My aspirations,

Scared.

I can read you horror stories about being scared.

I can swim oceans,

jump off cliffs,

run for miles,

and it still wouldn’t be enough to tell you about the magnitude of fear.

Scared is when you realise your dad has left and your all alone

Scared is the crazy heart wrenching fear of the dark

All the things you don’t want to see, manifest and show themselves in the dark

Scared is blaming everyone but yourself

Scared is letting life pass you by

Scared is severing sacred connections.

Scared is almost saying ‘I do’

Scared is almost crying

Scared is almost showing emotion

Scared is almost saying ‘I like you too’

Scared is never moving

It’s never ending

It’s forever blind.

It’s forever losing.

It’s forever alone.

Writers Disease.

recently I lost the will to write.

the words that once flowed like water,

no longer seem to flow from my mind.

I contemplated,

maybe this is the last ever time,

that I will be able to paint beautiful pictures with the words I write.

Is this disease curable, doctor?

Is there anyway to save me?

I feel like I’m going insane,

The words I try to write no longer translate,

my mind a black abyss the words just cant seem to escape

is there anyway to take this pain away?

I remember people asking why I write

In response I wrote a sea full of poems and stories

eyes blazing, pen scratching,

now I can no longer answer that question.

Why didn’t anyone tell me doctor?

this disease is more than my pen being unable to hit the paper

its more than my mind drawing up blanks

its more than the burning desire to rip every piece of paper to shreds

its being stuck in limbo,

its being stripped, naked with no where to hide,

help me. help me. help me.

why wont you help me?

you told me it would only last a week and now its a year and I still can’t seem to move this block.

I can’t seem destroy this block

this mental block

this disease.

I screamed. I screamed. I screamed.

and all he had to say to me and all he ever said was,

time.

“Next time we f**k, I don’t wanna f**k, I wanna make love”

How many people nowadays can honestly sit down and tell you all the times they had sex, it was more than just sex? How many people can tell you that every time they got intimate with someone it is because of an undeniable connection they both shared? How many people can say that they don’t just want to have meaningless sex anymore? How many people told you that messing around doesn’t make them feel better? How many people want to make love? How many relationships last???

I was conversing with my friend earlier, about society, sexual expectations, intimacy and most importantly connection. I find it crazy, absolutely mind blowing, to comprehend giving up apart of your soul without connection there. I find it crazy how people can actually find honest connections in the 21st century anymore. Maybe its because I’m 19. Apparently everyone has a ‘hoe stage’, I’m still to have mine.

What has happened to building relationships? what has happened to dates? romance? falling for someone for who they are and not what they have to give you?  What’s happened to loving someone’s mind so much, that the physical isn’t what’s important? Yes, I’m making generalisations, I know people in beautiful relationships. I can say I feel slightly envious, confused to how they found that kind of love but scared it will never last. Because these day’s love is never enough. Love doesn’t save marriages, sex doesn’t make them stay, love doesn’t ensure loyalty and honesty. I guess the beauty of life is to take that risk… maybe someone is actually worth hurting for.

All good things are hard to find. But, right now, it seems almost impossible. I want that Drake loyalty. I want a Bella and Edward kinda love, a Catherine Heathcliff kind of obsession, a Sephy and Callum commitment and lastly a Hazel and Augustus ’till death do us part.

Is that too much to ask for?