I miss you today. Grief. Such a heavy word. Saying it makes your soul a little more tired; and I suppose it should. How is it that I can see you with your blue pen, and newspaper crossword puzzle sitting outside with a cigarette.
By Timbrel Veen3 years ago in Poets
If I was being honest with you, I still don’t understand you most days. Looking at it now, I don’t think I was ever meant to.
Let her out of the nice clothes you put her in, let he be alive, and let her feel. Don’t forget to let her mind run wild and her feelings run rapid.
She loved the world for everything beautiful that ever lived in it, but hated the world for everything it should've been but wasn't.
Stop. Stop hating the girl who is trying her best. The girl who loves deeply, hard, and feels it. Stop seeing imperfection in everything she does.
I guess I’m scared. Scared that after all this time you’ll realize I’m not what you wanted, Scared that maybe I never was all along.
I want to know we fought our hardest, that we loved each other. But loving someone doesn’t mean it was meant to be. Sometimes loving means leaving, because the pain cuts deep and the tears flow heavy .
Go be outside, like really be outside. Take your shoes off and be outside. Ground your soul & your spirit. Close your eyes.
I want to be able to tell you that when it’s late at night, And I want to go do something exciting , Or rebellious . You’d be the one I want to call,
There's something to be said about morning kisses. Early, sleepy, sloppy, morning kisses. The kind where he rolls over, eyes closed, mind still consumed in dreams.