"Go sell yourself to someone else."i've forgiven you for saying this, i really truly have.it was said in a time of anger and spite,bubbling out of your throat like vomit,dousing your tongue with bitter regret once they left your mouth.i understand this better than anyone.but the words are still branded on my ribs,following me everywhere i go,and echoed a hundredfold more than the last second.gosellyourself:needypatheticslutimpurevainweakbrokeconceitedi am haunted by these spiteful words that once spilled from your lipslike coughed up blood as it floods your lungs.how many people haveihaunted this way?
for every time you failed to come throughyou should have broken your pinkybecause promises mean nothingif you don't lose something in returnbut you didn'tyou gained and gained and gainedmaybe that's why i'm unafraidof broken pinkies too
Good morning amorcito. I know it's early but I just couldn't help but sit down and write. I woke up and the first thing I thought about were your eyes. I thought of how brown they are and how that's really common, but on you my love, they're more lovely than the brightest pair of blue or the warmest pair of amber. I thought of how your left eye twitches when you laugh really hard, the kind that makes you gasp for breath. I thought of how eyes are said to be windows to the soul and how obvious my love for you must be the second you look into them. Maybe you don't need to. Maybe my love is so great that you can see it pouring out of every inch of me. It feels like that sometimes. Just at the mention of your name, my bones sing and my heart races faster than any marathon runner. My stomach does impossible flips and, despite the nausea, I can't help but be excited. It sounds dramatic. I know. But it's true and if that makes me weird then I'm the biggest clown you ever met! Finally, I thought of the most wonderful thing. I thought of the day I'll look into your extraordinary, perfectly average brown eyes and see the love I feel for you returned. My amorcito, if you understand anything in this letter I want you to understand that it's this final thought that gives me the courage to live through another day. You are my inspiration, my motivation, for all things great and small.
Dreams in the dusk,Only dreams closing the dayAnd with the day's close going backTo the gray things, the dark things.The far, deep things of dreamland.Dreams, only dreams in the dusk,Only the old remembered picturesOf lost days when the day's lossWrote in tears the heart's loss.Tears and loss and broken dreamsMay find your heart at dusk.
I could snatch a day out of the late autumnAnd set it trembling like forgotten springs,There would be sharp blue skies with new leaves shiningAnd flying shadows cast by flying wings.I could take the heavy wheel of the world and break it,But we sit brooding while the ashes fall,Cowering over an old fire that dwindles,Waiting for nothing at all.
I heed not that my earthly lotHath--little of Earth in it--That years of love have been forgotIn the hatred of a minute:--I mourn not that the desolateAre happier, sweet, than I,But that you sorrow for my fateWho am a passer-by.