*ends up not getting laid*

Eh, so you love him

I spun around you like I knew I was far from last nor your first
And maybe it was the moment I landed on your back in the way you looked ready to erase your past
Or when you complimented me in between your spews of lies that your teeth poisoned you to eject
I am one of many fireflies looking in all the wrong heartaches
With a lifespan of seven days Sundays have air raids of truths and regrets while Mondays the ptsd is so bright that my punctured lungs can hardly grasp the reality of solidarity that I have conjured for myself
But of course it’s not you
It’s just what’s not me

True life: I am literally always angry

For you, I would be willing to do it.

I would save the spare change, just to buy the bus ticket, the train ticket, the plane ticket, to go and see you. I would stay up on the phone until one thirty just so I wouldn’t be the one to hang up. I would walk to you if I had to. I would write the long letters and the short notes and texts. I would sleep in the airports, the bus stations. I would surprise you. I would plan the big anniversary trips. I would take you to the fast food joints when I visit, and the five star restaurants, too. I would remind you eleven times a day of how much I miss you and love you. I would. I swear.

They say distance makes the heart grow fonder, but I don’t think I can get much fonder for you.

But I guess we can give it a shot, right?

Because for you, I’d be willing to do it.

(via meggo111)

(Source: forever--missing--him)

Loved you then
Love you still
Always have
Always will

(Source: anxietyandboys)

Some people only recognize it when it’s razor blades or rib bones
But for some it’s 20 shots
two large pizzas
maxed out credit cards
an entire series
or even pinching yourself raw
begging to just wake up

Coping with reality

Brown bedsheets and pizza
I should have taken the signal from the second roller coaster
laughing from all the pain
Sore and sorry
Brown bedsheets and pinned arms
I must resist my usual tossing
Don’t skip kickboxing
next week you’ll be bleeding from punching away the loneliness
It wouldn’t hurt so bad
If it hadn’t have felt so real
Don’t try to fool yourself darling
This weekend will be one hell of a test
Brown bedsheets and broken hearts