despite how hard i’ve wished and prayed you weren’t the one. you are. and i know i can never love you how you want me to.
one day i will have flowers waiting for me when i get home, and glances at dinner with his family, and good sex, and actually laugh at what he says, and i will trust him completely, and i will truly love him.
my grief chases me. like a hunter and his very favorite prey. brutal, persistent, ruthless.
yesterday i read the notes on a life
that had just barely counted as one lived
the girl was far too tainted to be a wife
but she was a girl with much love to give
she talked like a true contrarian
eternally antithetical girl
then her opinions flew with the herons
to a much kinder and comforting world
with time her smile faded into the gray
and she went aimlessly through the motions
she joined other wretched souls yesterday
her eulogy murmured by the ocean
i suppose she always hung by a thread
i would’ve hung onto each word she said
“aliza, i’m in love with you”
“oh you poor, poor boy”
i feel so loved for a mere second, then it is ripped away by fake niceties. i only wish that the prophecy could be rewritten so that a single soul is obsessed with mine.
i can feel myself falling. and i have never ever been happier.
i would fight for centuries to get my old self back.
“are you guilty of arson?”
“yes, of my own mind.”