Monday 28 April 2014 @ 00:29 0 stares
I am jaded and listless
my resolve ripped in shreds
My mind is a careless mess
and all I crave is undeserved rest.
I keep running and running
outward, onward towards oblivion
straight into the horizon
Hoping not to get caught.
But they're faster than I ever will be,
they're catching up, fast on my heels
I keep my shadows tied to my ankles
but they're stepping on my feet.
Just don't drag me down, I beg.
Sometimes I delude myself into thinking
they would listen but they don't
they never did, they never will.
I can only pray they don't wrap their fingers around my neck
again and push me down with them
Dragging me across the gravel
'til I am a bloodied mess.
Pain is a wish and death is a promise
My bruises get bruises
from the thought of
relapse.
Tuesday 22 April 2014 @ 02:35 0 stares
Not anymore.
I've come to realise that I deserve better. I deserve a boy who didn't find my thoughts silly or juvenile. Perhaps I deserve nothing, - but I certainly did not deserve a boy who ran penknives across portraits I painted with my own hands.
I was foolish, I admit. But I am not bitter. Maybe I was, for half a second. Wouldn't you, if you were deceived into believing sugarcoated lies? Lies which at one point made your heart bloom because all you saw was the trap, the beautiful trap. Those were the lies I played in my head on long, lonely nights to make me feel better. They were the soundtrack of my days. I would never have guessed that they were pernicious seeds which would grow into ivy, creeping and entwining within my mind- I was ensconced in poison and realised too late. But I am not bitter. I know better.
Things have a way of working out. I did ask for it. I wished so hard to have someone, anyone lend validity to my existence. In some ways he fulfilled that but he largely left an empty space where my heart should be.
I did give him everything. Now I want it all back.
God knows I didn't deserve to hurt.
Sunday 20 April 2014 @ 02:07 0 stares
She likes her white trainers roughed up because she thinks that gives them character.
And when her laces unravel, she leaves them be.
Her laugh would remind you of silver bells- musical and delicate.
Her smile sends a wave of warmth running down the coldest of spines.
She keeps a moleskin notebook in her leather jacket.
To pen down observations of people
and to sketch the underside of leaves
she picks off pavements.
She isn't perfect
but she seems so anyway
When wisps of hair stick against her cheek
She tucks them behind her ears
and is instantly neat.
She has croissants for breakfast, lunch and dinner.
It makes her feel somewhat reminiscent of a French lady
bon appetit
She thinks she's hopeless but really she isn't
She's a dreamer with dreams too large to hold in her hands
Sometimes she climbs more steps than her legs could reach
And when she falls,
she feels like a failure.
But she isn't. And she isn't me.
Tuesday 15 April 2014 @ 01:11 0 stares
Yet I am still happy. I can't not be- not after lulling around in the void for ages. I'm different now, stronger. Like an alloy. Oh, to be surrounded by people whom I venerate. The ones who make me laugh 'til my sides feel bruised. Its that pain again- the good kind of pain. People who offer their bones to support me even when I can stand on my own. People whose smiles make me smile and whose joys and sorrows I share. People whose thoughts and sentiments are akin to my own, our frequencies alike. People whose existence embellish my days and are whom I regard as treasures more precious than fancy stones.
I live for the painful kind of laughter. I live for the impromptu walks and confessional chats. Standing in the snaky queue, waiting to buy a chocolate croissant to ease 2pm hunger pangs. Iced coffee to evade slumbers in lectures. I live for those windy afternoons- sitting at the empty grandstand with a dear friend. And those evenings when everyone gathers to watch a football match. Sitting on the synthetic field, outstretched on the vast green. Taking polaroids by the red track. Blithe memories delineated in film. Sun-soaked and joy-filled, overflowing to the brim.