experience

as a child you come to understand who you will become. the smell of smoke or the idea of an escape allures you quickly or not at all. until one day you’re crying and you’re not completely sure why. until you look in the mirror, and look into your own eyes and realize why. stability turns into instability. love realizes its just lust, or an addiction. theres no such thing as forever, just an indefinite amount of time that is soon massacred into a bloody shamble..

hold your hopes close to your heart, for they are all you may consume in this lifetime.

grotesque thoughts stream through my mind of you

you’ve torn me open over an agreement just to throw a star into my back.

i bleed for you.

i fall for you.

i rise to scorn you.

goodbye.

Found Again

I am released:

from an internment

of

shackles and chains;

risen from my place,

back into

your

wandering arms.

Love Story

I want to write a love story you see, but I cannot. I will not. But I want to. My problem here is the fact that I’ve never lived a love story, all I see is and understand are my dreams of what I had always wanted for love. I’ve never noticed the love or felt it until after; I left my heart on my sleeve and it got shattered there. Thats why I cannot write a love story. I had so many mixed emotions about the past, along with a textbook of excuses as to why I couldn’t do something. Now, looking back, I’m the one who took from myself, and no one else. I used to blame my unhappiness on people, usually anyone who had “done me wrong” most recent to my newest issue. I’m so ashamed of that today. I was chasing everything my past had written for me, and I wanted it so badly, I yearned for it. It never came. It was the past- therefore it belongs where it was. I was hurting, but I also caused some of that hurt. It can’t always be all one sided; it can’t always be someone else’s fault. I was at blame too (for more than enough might I add). I’ve felt a lot of pain that was put upon me, as well as the pain self induced. That is why I can’t write a love story. I want to. I want it to be all true, and I want to wrap my mind in it and marvel in my love but I can’t. That is why I cannot write a love story. I want to, but I cannot. I will one day though, and it will be beautiful. 

 

– Zoë