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Meandering roads



You used to love when I would write just because You’ve gone away, somewhere in between a body of ocean and raving green hills that give off a beautiful thrill. So this is for you, along with anything else I’ll ever map out:

It was a chilly night in early May, four nights before your departure. All was good or seemed to be. I remember that day clearly. I got ready for school, late as usual. In every class I sat patiently with anxiety traveling in and out of my body. I held that piece of paper tightly because I was so nervous that in a few hours I would have to recite some beautiful words, the very ones you always asked for. As the day progressed I managed to digress. At one point I became dyslexic. I would stare off into the page and the only message I could convey is that you’d be gone. Thus, the night followed. We sat side by side in a crowded room decorated with a few familiar faces. I managed to sneak my name onto the list without you noticing. The announcer called my name, you looked around deeming it to be a coincidence, as I did. I was so fucking scared. I was frightened of the people, I was frightened of the truth, I was frightened of what would become of me without you. People had been telling me to do it for ages but I never listened. No one ever mattered as much as you. I cannot begin to comprehend the grasp you had on me, when you weren’t even here, when you haven’t been here for four years. You loved the way I wrote and believed in me. You had faith in me. So thank you. It’s all for you, where ever you are, I wouldn’t of continued without you. 



These four walls are beginning to consume me.
My heart is coinciding with the weather and becoming gloomy.
Inch by inch, they begin to cave in.
Losing myself in my own misery, forbidding any sense of warming.
You can look the other way, I can careless for contact, not today.
You can’t make anything better, as much as you’d like to.
I’m not three, I don’t need the sugar coated lies to make me feel free.
I need the bare truth to feel true.
At any given expense it’s better to hurt than to “recover” in an unresolved mess of hope.
You can only have so much faith, until you fuck it all and smoke right through an eighth.
Expanding your mind, some need advice, others just need an outer body experience to see through their third eye.
See not everything is crystal clear, but it does not mean that we should panic and run to others in fear.
But anyway, tomorrow is a different day.





Heritage // Manchu


tall-tea:

This.

I have a loving soul.
I may not want to date you.
But I still love you as if I were.
I want the platonic dates,
without the warm expectation.
I’d probably have your kids.
I always wanted a little boy with a big afro.
And someone who knew how to build a fort.
Our wedding would have thee best floral arrangements,
You’re a sucker for anything sweet, anything vibrant, anything unique.

I wish we didn’t meet the way we did.
Hiding between swedish furniture stores
to escape reality
Creating our own tragedy.
Everyday I wish I could.
Everyday I wish you hadn’t left me with two broken birds.
Everyday I wish you would’ve left things as they were.
Then I wouldn’t feel so guilty for saying no.






In short:
Dancing, Playing, and fixing things that aren't broken.





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