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Literature
sometimes my heart breaks.
i'm starting to forget what your voice sounded like when you spoke those sweet melodies into the telephone. and i guess you could say, i don't remember a single way of how your voice would gradually get higher as you said those three heart poisoning words. yes, they're so poisonous, and the venom is still in my heart. breaking, boiling, and scouring every last breathe i can bare to make. you kept me feeling like an adrenaline rush; fire burning, and stomach churning with the flutter of red and yellow butterflies- they were your favorite colors. i used to think it stood for mcdonalds, because girl, you were a fast food junkie.
like i said,
Literature
howl for a drunken heart.
i don't want to be the girl you could have had. i don't want to be the only one left standing, the only one who lost the only boy she ever really cared about. i don't want to be the one you should have kissed, the one you only sort of loved, the one you dated just so you could "get some." i don't want to be the co-signer of all your lies and the author of all your sins. i don't want to be alone every satruday night, i don't want to be sitting around waiting, and i sure as hell do not want to be your normal, girl next door who you only love on odd days.
i want to be the girl you fight for. i want you to cross oceans, fight fires, go three day
Literature
only love can break your heart
i was packing for university, going through my closet – and found a small wooden box. i opened it, and found a thousand faded memories.
i.
a littleboy valentine from the boy i loved in grade two. the lace edges are torn, but the careful cursive letters stating his everlasting love are as bright as they were when they could still light up my heart.
ii.
a broken crayon from the first boy i kissed. he held my hand and told me i was pretty in the way that only a twelveyearoldboy can, and on my birthday he gave me a crayon the exact color of my eyes.
iii.
a stuffed toy my first real boyfri
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