Birds and The B-word

I believe when it is the right time, when it is with the right person, and when (in the case of my religion) you are married,
Sex has got to be such a beautiful thing.
That’s why it’s insulting when people use derogatory terms.
Because when sex happens for the right reasons, the right time, with the right person, with stable emotions, it is making love.
Breathing life into an emotion until it is a tangible and physical thing.
Something like that,
Has to be beautiful.



I am scared that you will forget me;
That is why I write from memory.
I know things are different now
And I know, most likely, they will never be the same.
I cannot mourn them though,
And I am not mad at you.
Even after false promises and lack of effort,
The you I want to remember is the one who made me feel alive that night in August.
The one who drove me around for an extra hour just so I wouldn’t cry myself to sleep.
And if there ever was a time to fall in love with you,
It would’ve been then.
But you know I cannot fall in love
Unless I actually “belong” to someone.
So even though you have no time,
And even though these words will fall upon deaf ears,
Know they are not empty,
That they are with good intent,
And that they come directly from my heart.
Just like yours did;
Not too long ago.


I have been vulnerable and broken down too much this week.
I have been miserable and felt so alone.
And I’m not blaming anyone.
Because blame won’t help anyone.
All I know is I’m sitting here missing my boyfriend, wondering where it went wrong, what I did wrong, and how now neither of us can fix it.
How it shouldn’t be fixed.
How my boyfriend no longer exists.
And instead I’m craving for something that was a myth.
But I’ll admit it,
I hope wherever my best friend went he hears it,
I miss him.
And he doesn’t need to be back in my life, because I don’t miss this.
But part of me was always yours, to begin with.
And we went about it wrong from the start,
And now that you’re healed,
It’s only fitting I’m the one falling apart,
Writing stupid and bad poetry with my broken,
Bleeding heart.
Trying to satisfy something.
Out of nothing.
We are now nothing.
You can’t tell me that doesn’t slightly sting…
Not even a little bit?

Heartbroken Hymns (10/28)

I told myself I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me crumble after his comments,

but I’m just not that strong.

I am tired of being strong, when all I feel is weakness.

I am tired of holding myself up, because I have to “move on”.

I can’t just “move on” from something I spent three years fighting for.

I can’t just “move on” from losing my supposed best friend.

I can’t just become Miss Independent because now you don’t want me.

I’m not going to say now you don’t need me, because we both know you never did.

I am angry at pretenses,

and how I am supposed to act.

I am angry at tears,

because then I am showing what I see as weakness.

And Lord knows,
I’d take a bullet if it meant I was allowed to feel weak.

Because, for whatever reason, I have to be the strong one.

I have to “move on” and know I deserve better.

Don’t you all get it?
Don’t you know trashing him won’t make me a complete person?
Or talking about how you think he’s hooking up with his friend is not consolation?

Not when you loved him for three years.

Not when you did not know him the way I thought I did.

And I’m crazy defending him until the ends of the earth,

and I am crazy falling at his feet,

begging to be enough.

I did not make him happy enough.

I did not give him enough space.

I did not give him enough time.

I did not love him enough and now,

I am desperate,

I am broken,

crushed rather than bent metal.

Completely malleable.

Completely movable.

Not because I hate him.

But because I loved him.

Because I love him.

And because I can remember how we fit,

because there’s no one else I can imagine myself dancing with,

because his name still lingers to where others try to compensate for his guilt.

And they shouldn’t have to.

He is not a monster,

but a liar.

And that reminds me how much I wanted honesty after being lied to for two and half years,

and how much I wanted this after overcoming everything she put me through,

everything I thought I found in you.

And while I don’t have any respect left,

even if I had some to give,

I know you can still be a man of greatness,

and I know, that even though I have spent this whole day missing whatever the hell it was we had,

there is no chance,

even though I don’t know why I would want a chance for us.

See all this?
This is spawned from one stupid comment.

So next time do me the pleasure of texting me first.

Show me some respect for once.

You owe me that much.