I keep my jealousy close,
‘Cause it’s all mine.
And if you say this makes you happy,
Then I’m not the only one lying.
Nothing comes as easy as you.
Can I lay in your bed all day?
I’ll be your best kept secret
And your biggest mistake.
The hand behind this pen relives a failure every day.
Saturdays are the ONE day a week that I miss you like crazy.
Saturdays are the ONE day a week that I’d stop being so tough and I’d talk to you.
Saturdays are the ONE day a week i’m vulnerable.
Saturdays are the ONE day a week you still have a window of opportunity. of hope.
Saturdays are the ONE day a week I wish you really were Superman.
i sincerely don’t even care anymore. i just want the nightmares to stop. i want to be able to trust people again. i want to stop looking over my shoulder.
i don’t know whether it’s because of him, or because of him, or because of the fact that i’ve been sober since January 1, and my body and brain are adjusting to that.
all i know is that i need some sleep.
“There are many ways to love someone. Sometimes we want love so much, we’re not choosy about who we love. Other times we make love such a pure and noble thing, no poor human can ever meet our vision. But for the most part, love is a recognition, an opportunity to say, ‘There is something about you I cherish.’ It doesn’t entail marriage, or even physical love. There’s love of parents, love of city or nation, love of life, and love of people. All different, all love.”
-Raymond E. Feist” —
I’ve already forgotten how to trace your face with my eyes, my fingers. Give it a few more days, and I will have forgotten your voice. Im erasing you, good and bad. Because the good was an illusion and the bad was so real it had its own pulse.