Do you still love me?


I still love you

no I don’t.

I’m so confused. why did this happen.

I want you to be happy. if this is what it takes then I’m okay with it. be happy. for me. please.

don’t you ever give up.

I kind of hate you for leaving me.

but I still love you.

I won’t look at you in person but I talk to you in my head

you’re a better listener this way.

I’m sorry.

maybe if I wasn’t so fucked up this wouldn’t have happened

no. it’s not my fault.

but it kind of is.

I hate this

I don’t know who I am without you.

why can’t things be like they were before

please come back to me. I need you. you need me.

we are so goddamn bad for each other it’s beautiful. I’m addicted to our heartbreak.

I went through our old messages. I cried because you promised to always be there. you lied.

you smiled at me in the hall today. i thought my chest was being ripped open

I’m glad you’re smiling though.


texts I saved but never sent you since you left me. (via siameasy)

(Source: satanss-mistress, via nostalgia-puppet)

"I never could say the right words and because of that, I thought I wasn’t worth the words."

Kale McIlvoy

"She wasn’t ready to be loved but boy did her eyes say different"


See, when you used to tell me I was a bitch, I didn’t know you were trying to carve me down.
You seemed explosive, seething.
I was blind to the careful placement of the word, the gutting eyes.
I wasn’t aware of the apologies that would come pouring out of my mouth like hail,
and I didn’t see that they were breaking the foundation from within.
“You know, you’re such a bitch”, you tell me when I disagree or defend myself.
This time I will not shudder beneath you
because you know what?
You are not any more monstrous than me.
You are a man with fists and you clench them to make me scared,
but I’m not scared anymore.
I’m not scared of offending you, not scared of being a bitch.
You are not the twelve year old girls kicking me with their cleats,
you are not my mother looming over my 6 year old body.
I am not cornered, I am not breathless. I’m wiser and older.

The thing is, you’re still a bully,
and I’ve learned how to deal with you.

Tighten your fists, spit your words. Call me a bitch.

I’m the bitch that you’ll remember fighting back.


Bullies || Scarlette La Vaillante (via scarlettethewriter)

"leaving is not enough; you must
stay gone. train your heart
like a dog."

From Frida Kahlo to Marty McConnell by Marty McConnell (via hush-syrup)

"My heart’s beating out of my chest
& all I can think of is you,
and her,
and the nights I spend alone,
and the time my mother didn’t speak to me for me for a week
because she couldn’t;
the rope was around her neck
and I was in other room watching cartoons.
I remember the time when I was 5 and I fell and scraped my knee.
The nurse at my school told me I just need to breathe
and it will heal.
Although I guess nothing really heals because
I still have the scars 12 years later;
12 years later and I still can’t breathe."


You’ve been asking for a while now,
But I’ve been scared to tell…
You want directions to my heart,
You want the key to get inside.
Listen carefully when I tell you,
I’m a map that’s hard to read,
Please don’t get lost along the way.
Once you reach your destination,
I’ll unlock the gates myself.
You see, you not giving up
That’s all I’ve ever wanted.

"It burned out in a basement because neither
person would take control and go in for that first kiss.
It burned out in a diner because they had gone
in for too many kisses and their lips were chapped
and it didn’t feel nice to stay up all night talking anymore.
It all felt exhausting.
It burned out in a bedroom because she walked in
and his legs were tangled up with someone else.
On her good sheets too, she cried.
The sheets shouldn’t matter, but they did.
It burned out at a train station because she kissed him goodbye,
but she only bought a one way ticket.
It burned out in a car where “I love you” ‘s hung
themselves from low hanging beams
and gathered dust and were
never heard from again.
There was a flood of curse words and fists and fury
that burned it out at 2 AM.
A baby cried in his room and they never made love anymore.
It burned out on whiskey breath and mascara stained cheeks
and endings and beginnings and it burned out slowly
like a house crumbling to the ground and it burned out
fast like a flashbulb’s pop."

"The Spark" by Claire Luisa (via claire-luisa)

(via claire-luisa)

"You are the song I hum to myself in bed, it’s true,
but there are no words to tuck me in, no harmonies to keep me warm through the night.
You are empty notes in a quiet house and, you see, I dream of choirs and orchestras."

noise for the silence (via frayed-and-torn)


i. There are blonde curls that linger on your forehead. Sunlight hits fair skin, and I see my reflection in green eyes. 

ii. I don’t remember the day you came into my life. I cannot tell you how I wore my hair or how you shook my hand, but I can tell you that we were getting lost in hallways the day I started to look at you like more than a person. 

iii. You sat on the edge of the bed, and I feasted my eyes on your smile. I didn’t even try to look away. I hadn’t yet realized what a privilege you were. I thought of words like, “genuine” and “sweet” but never once did I think, “beautiful” in the same way that it’s crawling up my throat tonight. 

iv. I never would have guessed that I’d be writing poems about you on a Tuesday night. 

v. Some mornings, my eyes crave you. I will wake up with your name on my lips or caught between my fingers, and I wonder if I had been dreaming of getting drunk off your smile or high off you bones.


There are whispers fluttering in my eardrum, but each one throbs your name (via because-she-loves-words)

"i never showed you my poems because i knew you
would read them and think of someone else’s hips.
today i am too tired to miss you but keep thinking
about your shoulders and having dreams about my teeth
falling out. i think about how your parents and your friends
will probably always like your ex better than me,
how they will only think of the bad parts: the way i fucked you
on the heels of your breakup, the way i told you to stop
speaking to me. i hope this isn’t the story you remember,
but you never know. tell me, does a good first impression
override the bitter taste i left in your mouth?
yesterday i told my mother i missed her
and she immediately asked if i was lonely. i woke up
thinking of you again, but i told her no. sometimes i still wish
we could call this whole thing off, but i am trying not
to be the kind of girl who says go when she means stay.
really, it’s not that i miss you. it’s just:
there are still so many things that i have to ask you."