You made me believe that you had finally forgotten about me. That you had gotten rid of the memories, the love, and every word that I carefully placed on the inside of your heart. You made me believe that you had finally erased me from your mind. My name is no longer a word that you have become familiar with. You made me believe that you had finally forgotten about me, until I tried forgetting about you.

Who would have
ever known that
falling in love
could hurt so
much. That it
could make you
feel so small,
so insignificant, so
forgetful. If I
would have known
that falling in
love could be
so painful, I
would have never
fallen in love
to begin with.

You can make love
to as many men as you’d like,
but when that fiery passion starts 
to subside, you will be thinking
of the one you really want.
The one who made your heart 
ignite. The one brought you 
to this meltdown in the first place

I will forever be haunted
by the thought of how it could
have been if we would have both 
just let our weak and tortured past go.

I’ve spent so much of my time
loving someone who would never
really give a damn if I even loved them at all.

I ruined you, didn’t I?
Changed your outlook on love.
Those once so positive feelings
are now molding into a bitter
reality. I figured that you knew
it was like this sometimes.
That not even the happiest
of couples can remain inside
of bliss forever. But still,
I ruined you. And I will never
be able to forgive myself
for what I’ve done to your
once so hopeful heart.

You have given
me all of the love 
that I have always 
thought I never
deserved.

You will always be
my favorite hello,
and my most painful
goodbye.

I don’t want her anymore,
don’t need her anymore.
She bruised me, broke
the pieces of me that I
needed for another time
when a new lover would
find their way into my arms.
And she knew that, so
she spent her time ruining
the parts of me that I would
need for future situations
when someone tried to
do exactly what she has done.
Don’t let her emptiness
fool you in the same way 
that it has tricked me.

I should just forget
about you. What’s the
use in waiting for 
someone who will 
never really know
how to accept love,
or to give it back
in return. You really
are a lost cause.

I hope that this time around
it will be different. That she
will see me as the person
who still has a fighting chance.
That we will not let our love
be destroyed by jealous words
and untrue assumptions.
I hope that this time around
it will be different. Because
this time around, I’m not 
going to give up so easily.

You can continue trying
to convince yourself
that it’s you that I am
writing about, or that it’s
the thought of you that
keeps me up at night.
But I have not dreamed
about you in months,
or have woken up every
morning with your face
in my mind. I let the fire
of your memory subside
when I finally realized
that this thing we had,
this forced kind of love
that we had created, only
felt real when we both had
nothing else to look forward to.


I always thought
that they were wrong
when they said
that it wasn’t always
going to be easy.

I know that you
are better without me,
happier without me,
more in tune with the 
things that you have
always wanted without
me. When I finally
let you go, I could see
the sudden spark
of inspiration in your
worn out eyes. You are
a better person without me,
even when you feel as if
you could be more complete
with me still tied around
your confused heart.

And when you lose her 
because you were the one 
who stopped searching for her 
in the first place, don’t expect 
her to one day follow the path 
back to your arms.
She’s looking for something too.
So don’t be surprised 
when she finds someone
who will never lose her
from their sight.
She has always been looking
for a place to call home,
and she has always wanted
the light in someones eyes
to help guide her there.

I know women like you,
women who have been told
to keep their mouth shut
but their heart open.
Women who put their needs
in front of any man who claims
to be their everything. Women
who have told their story
so many times that they could
recite it in their sleep. Women
who blame their problems
on themselves instead of shifting
the blame on the worlds shoulders.
I know women like you, women
who belong to no one but
themselves. Women who don’t
smile when they are not happy,
and who won’t hesitate
to tell you that you are getting
on their last nerve. Women who
speak without being spoken to,
and who don’t give a fuck
if you’re a man to tell you that
if you move one more inch
past the line of inappropriateness,
they will bite your narrow minded
and insensitive head off.
I know women like you, women
who don’t have to think twice
when it comes to knowing
what they want and not caring
about who they have to destroy
in order to get it. I know
women like you, and it’s a privilege
to be able to know you at all.

Remember me as the woman
who loved you with every inch
of her fragile body. Take those
memories of when we were
happy and replace them with
the times when you thought 
that this would never be 
enough to keep you coming
back. Remember me as the
woman who would have drained
herself of her own happiness
just to fill you up with something
other than loneliness. I hope
you remember me as the woman
who would have given you
light over any amount of darkness.
Because I know that I will
always remember you like this.

Your presence is still lingering.
I’ve tried writing you out of my
head and my heart but all that
seems to do is make your memory
more visible, more alive. You are
still here with me somehow.
I see you everywhere, I see you
in every new face that I try to 
replace yours with. There is no
use in forcing myself to forget
about you. No amount of new
lovers and warming words will
ever be able to erase you.

I needed you
and you left me.

I missed you
and you forgot me.

I loved you
and you hurt me.

I fixed you
and you ruined me.

It was like a sudden
gust of wind, or an almost
empty sky, filled with one
cloud that for some reason
cannot stop itself from crying.
This is how it felt when
you left, a sudden storm
that gave no warning before
destroying an entire city.
And just like the civilians,
I had no idea what to do
next but to sit and wait for it
to stop. But unlike rain clouds
and spiteful tides, the feeling
of your destruction never did
pass. It was always above me,
always following me like I was
the only one who needed
this disaster to appreciate
what I still had. But it never
felt like a lesson, and I still
have yet to learn from my mistakes,
still have yet to prepare myself
in case it happens again.
But I am still waiting for
the remnants of what you left
me with to fix itself, to show me
that there might still be some hope
of your demise. So I will wait
for this feeling of uncertainty
and anxiety to stop. But knowing
you, and knowing of your capability
to manipulate anything that tries
to stop you, I will be waiting
for the rest of my life.

We both created promises
that we couldn’t keep.
So there is no use
in blaming someone other
than ourselves. It was
both of our fault that we
couldn’t stick to what
we had swore to when we
both thought love
was on our side. So there
is no use in trying
to point a finger at anyone
other than the person
who is looking back at us
in the mirror.

I loved you through
thick and thin. I loved
you even when I thought
there was no more love
inside of my heart to give.
I loved you until my hands
grew tired and sore from
holding onto something
that was going to eventually
leave in the end. I loved
you through everything.
Even when I was left
with absolutely nothing.

I know you still
see me in all of
your favorite
things.

I’m falling in love with
the wrong people. Showing
the hidden parts of myself,
the parts that still need
time to heal, to the wrong
kind of people. It’s the kind
of people that don’t hesitate
to rip open your scars,
and to make that almost
faded bruise reappear on
the surface of your skin.
I’ve been falling in love
with the wrong people.
And I don’t have anyone
to blame but my own heart.

And I was a fool
to ever believe
that you could
have changed
just because I
said I love you.

Do you remember how
your hands felt when you
tore my entire world apart?
Or the look in my eyes
when I begged you not to
go, to reconsider, to erase
all of the memories of when
my love tasted more like cruelty.
Do you remember watching
me walk through those
high school hallways after
I saw you with a younger,
more plump, more together
girl? I know you remember
because there was a moment
when our eyes connected
and all I could see inside
of yours was a lack of sympathy,
and hope that your new found
lover might be better than I
ever was. When you first met
me, I was just a girl. When you
first met her, she was just a
child. Do you remember taking
my innocence from me like
it was something you deserved?
Fooled me into believing
that the word love really meant
yes. Do you remember how
it felt tearing my entire world
apart with your bare hands?
Even if you don’t, I always
will, because I still have
the scars from your destruction
all over my body as if it was
a map of all the places
you have ever ruined.

"I’ll always remember, even if you don’t,

You wanted this, you wanted me.
You wanted a messy woman who keeps
truth on the tip of her tired tongue.
You wanted me, all of me. 
You wanted a palette of skin that is
covered in self-inflected 
and accidental scars.
You wanted this, you wanted me.
You knew what you were
getting yourself into before you
actually looked through me thoroughly.
You wanted this, you wanted me.
But I am not something that comes
with a money back guarantee,
and even if you don’t break me,
there is no return policy attached
to my heart. So this is what you
wanted. You wanted me. And I hope
that what you have finally gotten
was everything that you ever wished to have.

"I know you’ll probably never forgive me, but I’m still sorry."
- 3:38 a.m. (unanswered)
"Hey, this is probably really random but I was thinking about you the other day because a song from Phoenix started playing on shuffle on my iPod, and I just wanted to tell you that I miss you."
- 12:15 p.m. (unanswered)
"You’re probably going to delete this before you read this but if you don’t, I just wanted to tell you that I still love you. And honestly, I don’t care if you don’t love me back because I have enough love in my heart for the both of us." (unread)
- 12:32 a.m.
"You can’t keep doing this to me."
- 4:45 p.m. (unanswered)
"Do you love me or not? Because your neglect is telling me that you don’t, but your poetry is telling me you do."
- 10:32 p.m. (unsent)
"I know that you fucked her when I wasn’t willing to see you. I can already imagine what you would do if I decided never to touch you again. I could probably smell you on every girl that passed me on the street."
- 11:13 p.m. (unanswered)
"I hope it felt good when she sucked you off. I hope it felt like love. I hope it felt like forever. I hope she was able to taste the disloyalty and the misguided truth when you finally finished."
- 2:32 a.m. (unread)
"I’ve loved you since the day I met you. And if that’s too much for you then I will understand if you never want to see me again."
- 7:47 a.m. (unanswered)

"unread, unsent, unanswered text messages,"

And when they say
that they no longer
love you, take all
of the love you made
for them out of your
heart and make it
revolve around yourself.
And when they say
that they no longer
need you, take that 
feeling of abandonment 
and start looking
for yourself. And when
they say that they
are better off without you,
show yourself that you
have always been better
off without them.

You made me believe 
that you had finally forgotten 
about me. That you had
gotten rid of the memories,
the love, and every word
that I carefully placed on
the inside of your heart.
You made me believe
that you had finally erased
me from your mind. My
name is no longer a word
that you have become
familiar with. You made me
believe that you had finally
forgotten about me, until
I tried forgetting about you.

I let you go because
I wanted to see if you
would come back. 
Because everyone has
told me too many times
that if it’s meant to be
it will be and if you let it
go it will come back
to you if it’s supposed to
be made for you. 
So I let you go, and you
haven’t come back, 
and I don’t know why I am
still waiting on someone
to return who is obviously 
better off without me.

They told us that it would not last.
That what we had thought was going
to be forever would only be until
we met the eyes of someone else
who could give us what was said
that every woman needs. But we
don’t need what everyone else
wants, and we don’t need to listen
to the words of those who can
only see love in one kind of light.
I look at you and I am home.
I am safe inside of a haven that 
we built with our own hands.
You are everything that I need,
that I want, and that I will always
crave, and no one else can tell us 
what it is that we need to survive.

It wasn’t my sudden
distance that tore us apart.
And it wasn’t my lack
of dedication towards the
end of whatever this is
that we’ve spent so much
time trying to perfect.
It was the way you touched
me with your hands after
being soaked in disloyalty,
and the way you stopped
loving me when all I needed
was for you to show me
that you still cared about this,
even when I made it seem
like I never did to begin with.

I missed the way that her body

fit so well into my body. Or the way

her hands never stopped exploring

my skin, even when she became

familiar with every piece of land

that my limbs were attached to.

I missed the way she could look

at me and already be able to tell

if there was something at the tip

of my tongue. She has given me

the courage to say it before I can

push it back for no one else but me

to have to deal with. I know that we

both might be better off without each

other’s arms tied around each other’s

bodies but I cannot help myself

when it comes to thinking about her.

She is the only thought that I hope

will never pass in time.

The truth is: I’ve never stopped
loving you. Not even for a second.
Not even during all of those times
when I told you that my life would
have been better if I would have
never met you, never fell in love
with the simplicity of your everything.
I lied to myself and I lied to you
when I wrote out my absence
for you in faded black typewriter
ink. I lied because I knew that I had
to. That if I didn’t cover up my 
pain with cruelty, I would be back
at the start; with you seeing me
as only temporary, and with my eyes
confusing coincidence for fate.

She will remember all
of the things that I always
forgot. After telling her how
you take your coffee, she will
already have it ready for you
before you leave for work.
And if she has to go before
you, she will not hesitate to
wake you up with her lips.
She’ll always want a goodbye,
an explanation, a story about
every place you’ve ever been to.
She will love you like you have
always deserved, and I cannot
revolt against something that
someone can do for someone
I love that I never could.

I hope you think of me when she is pressing her lips against yours for the first time. I hope it brings you back to the time when I was in her position and you had yet to become familiar with how it feels to be loved by someone who you can actually touch and get away with the feeling after.
I hope you think of me when you take her to your favorite places for the first time. When you tell her about your childhood memories of being too young to know that it would end faster than you thought. When you look at her after telling her about your embarrassing adolescence, I hope you think of me and how I only listened, while she is just waiting to talk and to top anything that has happened to you.
When you bring her home to meet your parents, I hope you think about the first time your mother and I bonded over Beatle records and red wine when she tells your mother that she’s never heard of the Beatles, and that red wine gives her a headache. I hope you think of me when you see the disconnect in your mothers eyes from future thoughts of how it’s going to be harder than she thought to replace me in her heart with this new woman who doesn’t understand how to share others interests who have been through it all.
When you make love to her for the first time, I hope you think of me. I hope you see my skin inside of her curves, and I hope you hear me moaning your name while she is silently waiting for it to be over so she can go home and call her friends to tell them about the way you pant like a dog when all you want is to be told that you look beautiful at your most vulnerable.
I hope you think of me when you think of her because I want you to feel how I felt when you ended things too quickly between us because you thought that I deserved more, when really, what I deserved was your dedication and ideas of forever. I hope you think of me while your at the end of your bed, face in your hands, explaining to her why you can’t attach yourself to people, and that it’s not her but it’s you. It’s always been you, and no amount of new lovers will ever be able to change that trait about yourself. I loved you even when you didn’t know what being loved meant, and I will still love you when she tells you that she never loved you to begin with.

"I hope you think of me,

With a cigarette in her hand,
and two shots of tequila later,
she already forgets why
she came here in the first
place. But no amount of alcohol
or mind altering drugs could ever
make her forget why she is doing
this to herself in the first place.
You knew when you had her heart
in the palms of your hands what
you were capable of. You always
knew what could keep her going
and what could ultimately end her.
But you did it anyway. You made
her feel as if she was the only
one that belonged to you, and you
pushed her out of your heart
before she could even shut the door
after her. You damaged her,
and now she is taking it out on herself.
You made her feel special,
and then after you used her into your
own advantage, you tossed her
out on your curb for someone else
to deal with. You broke her,
and you couldn’t care less because
you are not the one who
has to pick up the pieces.

"She was whole until she met you,

You will always be
a part of me,
even though you
are no longer
a part of
my life.

Maybe if I 
close my eyes 
you’ll disappear.
And maybe, 
just hopefully,
the memories of 
your neglect 
will too. 


And when I find the girl
that I’ve been searching for,
I am going to give her 
all of the love that I have
inside of my taken for granted
heart. I am going to show her
that there is no such thing as
wanting someone too much,
and that is possible to lose
yourself inside of someone 
else. When I finally find
this girl that I have been
searching for, for too many
years too long, I am going to
love her in all of the ways
that she has always wanted,
and in all of the ways
that she has always deserved.

I’ve made a promise
to myself that this will
be the last time I will 
think about you, write
about you. I no longer
see a point in loving
someone who’s mind is
consumed in thoughts 
of another. We had our
chance at love, but now
it’s time for me to find 
it within the arms of
someone who will
actually fight for it too.

I’ll never forget
about the last time
that I looked in your
eyes, because that
was when I knew
that what we had
wanted for so long
was finally over.
I cannot believe
that I ever yearned
for your presence.

I. You know where
to touch me in all of
the right places.

II. You know when
to get me back
before I am gone
for good.

III. You know why
I’m trying to move
on from you.

IV. You know how
to make me wish
that we never met
at all.

You only love me
when you feel as if
there is no one else
to make memories with.
You only need me when
you feel as if you have
lost everyone that has
ever mattered. You only
want me when you feel
as if everything is not
going your way. And you
only miss me when you
feel as if you have lost
me for good.

I want to tell her that it’s okay,
that I know we all make mistakes
and say things when nothing
seems like it’s fair. I want to
tell her that I am sorry, because
I am, and I’m not just saying
that because I know I was
the one who left before
she could even notice that time
had moved past her. I want
to tell her that I’ll always be
holding on, even when she has
finally convinced herself that
she should let go. I want to tell
her that I didn’t mean to
push her away so quickly,
and that she really did deserve
a proper goodbye. I want to
tell her that my biggest regrets
are always the ones when I
didn’t think things through.
I want to tell her that I still
think of her, and that I never
really stopped. I want to tell her
that I will always love her,
and I still love her. But if she
still doesn’t know that already,
and if she never really did,
then I want to tell her
that she never really
knew me at all.

"I want to tell her that I am still not ready to say goodbye,

It’s so easy for you
to talk about your new
lovers, and about all 
of the things you are
able to do now, now
that I am gone. It’s so
easy for you to fill up
the space in your heart
where my love used
to be. It’s so easy
for you, while it’s killing
me to even look at
someone in the eyes
without seeing your face.

If you study my words closely enough,
you will always be able to see something
that is about you. Whether it be a poem
about falling back into love, or even a
confession about how my loneliness
is starting to become the only one 
that I can depend on. Somewhere, 
there is always something about you.
And I cannot help myself when it
comes to writing you somewhere in
my meaning. So the next time you are
reading one of my poems that is
about how to forget about someone who
was once your entire world, I hope 
you know that the poem is about you.

I hope that one day
we can both look back
on these memories
of cruelty and heartache
and that we can both see
how much we really did
mean to one another. 
Because if both of us 
really didn’t care as much
as we say we do now,
we would have never
fought so hard for 
each others love 
in the first place.



And you have to be
a goddamn fool to believe
that I would really be happier
without you being here with me

I want to say goodbye
to all of this pain, but I
don’t want to let you go.
And I’m not sure which
is worse: feeling empty
because of your love,
or feeling broken because
of your permanent absence.

We could just pretend
like this is the first time
we have ever met.
But this time we could
go into this with a little
more knowledge than what
we had before. Maybe this
time we could put our hands
around each others hearts;
keeping the most important
vessel safe, instead of placing
our hands around each others
throats. Maybe this time 
around we could create love
instead of space, and fond
memories over bitter thoughts.
Maybe this time around
we can do it right.
And even if we can’t,
maybe we can at least
end it like we did.

I don’t care about who it is
that you’ve decided to fall in love
with this week. I don’t care
about how much you miss me
either. Mostly since you were
the one who let me go.
I don’t care about what we
could have been if I would have
just stitched my lips together
and gave you everything
that you wanted, no matter how
much it pained me. I don’t care
about where you are now,
how you feel, or where I have
ended up in your mind. I wish you
would just push me out of your
thoughts, burn all of the memories
that we created, and finally just
move on with your life, since you
say it has been better without me.
I don’t care because whenever
I do, I just end up back at the
beginning; with my heart around 
your finger, showing others that you
always get what you want.
No matter who it ends up crushing.

I may not have been
everything that you thought
I was going to be when
you were finally in my presence,
in my arms, and inside of
my life. You thought that my
growth was made up of
nothing but poetry
and pressed flowers,
but just because I was not
your dream come true
does not mean that I am not
someone else’s desire.
You can yearn for me as much
as you would like to,
but just because how you wanted
me to turn out was not the way
that I really was does not mean
that I have changed for the worst.
And just because I am not
what you were romanticizing
all along, does not mean that I
am not what someone else 
wants with everything inside
of their hopeful heart.

I’m imagining being with her, next to her, anything with her. I’m imagining touching her skin, her lips, and pressing my hands into her hands and falling in love with the way they fit so perfectly, like they were meant to be together.

I look at her body, examine her arms and I can see that by the way her skin looks, she has been through experiences that had the power to be a part of her forever. But that doesn’t make her any less beautiful, and that doesn’t make her weak, but strong to be able to look at her own limbs and tell others that she made it through. That even with the pain of always being able to remember, she will never let it make the decision for her.

She is a mystery that I cannot wait to solve. The last chapter in a book that has only opened my eyes to new lessons in life, but never taught me how to let go. She is a fantasy that is too vivid to describe. A dream that you wish you could never wake from. She is a vision that is too good to be true; I am hallucinating, can’t I see that none of this is real? Can’t I see that if I want her too much, she will vanish in the thin air, leaving me with nothing to prove to anyone, and only feeding my insanity to a point where its too full to ever be dismissed.

I’m imagining being with her, next to her, anything with her. I look at her body, examine her arms and I can see that her by the way her skin looks, she has been through experiences that had the power to be a part of her forever. She is a mystery that I cannot wait to solve. And as long as she loves me in-return, I won’t ever have to finish my favorite part.

I don’t miss you because
I am lonely, or because
you have found someone
who is worth your time.

I miss you because
I still love you, and I always will
even when I didn’t show it
when you were finally mine.

When you left me
I was the one who had to
stay in all of the places
that you and I created
new memories in.
When I look at my bed,
and am next to your spot,
I can still see the shape
of your body beneath
the now so lonely sheets.
When I am inside of my car,
I can still feel your hand
against my knee, and I can
still hear the hum of your voice
in sync with the songs
that reminded you of me.
And even when I am
outside in the driveway,
I can still feel the way
you looked at me before you
left, and told me with your
eyes, to beg you not to go.

I’m thinking of the new
girl who is sleeping in
your bed, in the spot
that was mine before
you made the choice
that you wanted someone,
something better than
me, and what I was able
to give to you. I’m thinking
of this new girl who has
sparked your interests,
and who is able to fulfill
your desires. I’m thinking
of this new girl and I am
imagining your future with
her, and I am feeling pity
inside of my chest for her.
I am thinking of her and
I am hoping that you don’t
throw her out like you did
with me. I hope she is
exactly what you have been
looking for because I don’t
want her to have to feel
how I am feeling now;
completely lost without a
hint of knowledge to why
it is that you can make
people feel so disposable.

"Not even the garbage man can understand why you threw something so useful away,"

I didn’t say goodbye
because I didn’t want it
all to stop in that moment.
And you deserve more than
two syllables when it finally
comes to the end.

I tell myself that you’ll
come back someday soon.
That this is only temporary.
I’ve been believing my own
lies lately. I’ve been telling
myself that you really didn’t
mean it when you told me
that loving me at all was a
mistake. I tell myself that you
will realize that you need me
someday. That you’ll take the
next train out to come and
see me, to make things right
between us. I tell myself
these things because I don’t
want to believe that you
have stopped loving me.
I’m believing my own lies
because I am not ready to
come to terms that you
have really moved on.

There is a light
inside of you
that I hope
will never
burn out.

I hope my memory
lingers within the parts
of your mind that you
cannot reach. I never
want you to forget about
me. I want my absence
to burn the most revealing
parts of your skin.
I will always be
a part of you.

We went from lovers
to enemies in the matter
of months, and if what
you say about me now
is really how you felt 
all along then I never 
will be able to see you
in the same passionate 
daylight that I once
saw you in before.

You’re not making this
better by throwing words
of cruelty my way. You
want me back? You want
me to love you with 
everything I have to offer?
Well you are not making
this any better by poking
holes of insensitivity in
my heart. You think that you
know me so well because
I showed you the parts
of myself that I revealed
to you. But you don’t 
know me. And to think that
you did at all was the 
biggest mistake that you
could have ever committed.

Stop measuring your
self-worth by the amount
of times that others hands
have met your skin with
hopes that maybe it will
go further than just lips
against lips. You are more
than lust, more than the
desire to explore a body
that someone has yet to
become familiar with. 
Everything that you have
yet to do does not
title you with the label
of inexperienced. Give
yourself a fighting chance.
You are much more than
a night spent alone with
a stranger who’s only
intention is to claim your
skin as their own territory.

No matter where you are,
or where you end up, 
I will always be with you.
Whether you travel to
foreign lands with nothing
but an open mind, or
when you come home 
and into arms that do not
belong to me, I will always
be with you. And I hope
you can say the same
about me.

You pushed me away
but expected me to come
running back to you
with open arms and an
open heart. How could you
be so selfish? How could
you love me so much
but give me nothing but
miles and bitterness? 
You are the only person
that has ever made me
me feel so small, but so
significant at the same time.

Może ktoś na Nią czeka w domu. Może jest z kimś po prostu umówiona. Może pójdzie dziś z kimś do łóżka. Nie wiem. Nie chcę wiedzieć.(...) Skasowałem Jej numer, ale wciąż znam go na pamięć. — Żulczyk

I used to think that I
would be in complete
bliss by being in your
presence, but all I felt
was the need to flee
without looking back.

I’m sorry for turning 
your once so full of love
heart into battle field.
It was never my intention
to turn you sour, or to
turn your outlook on love
grim. I never meant to
hurt you. I just wanted to
show you that even the
bravest of hearts can 
sometimes fall within 
the weakest walls of
despair and desperation.

I hope that when you
look back on what we
once had when we were
together and in love,
you will remember me
as the only person who
could give you everything
that you never needed
but always desired.

Stop searching for me
in the faces of strangers.
You will never find me
in the places that we
created unforgettable
memories in. Stop 
lingering in the creases
of my almost recovered
mind. I will not let you
ruin me like this again.

There is infinite love
inside of my heart for you,
and no amount of
wishing me away could 
ever make this tenderness
for you disintegrate.

We try to show the one
who hurt us the most that
we never loved them
by pushing ourselves into
another body like we are
two waves without any
self-control or guidance.
We do this in hopes
that the one who hurt us
the most will see
that we never needed
them to become so
beautifully destructive.

I still miss you, you know. Everything about you. All the things I loved, and now, I even miss the things that I hated. I miss the way you used to tell me that I was the first thing to come into your head after waking up, and the last thing you thought about before falling into slumber. I still miss you, you know. I miss the way you used to tell me about the things you didn’t actually want to talk about, but had to get out of your head. I miss the way you used to look at me when I had too much to drink and you had to carry me to the car like I was a child that was too tired to stand up on her own. I still miss you, you know. I miss the way your hands used to explore my body like it was land that you never stepped foot on, but was actually your home. I even miss the sound of your voice when you were too angry with me to form words into proper sentences to make your point clear. I still miss you, you know. The way in which you used to love me even when I didn’t love myself. I miss the feeling of being yours, knowing that I was the only one in your heart, and that I was the only thought that you could never get out of your head. I still miss you, you know. And your prolonged absence from my presence is only making that yearning for your return even stronger.

We were never meant
to go our separate ways.
We were meant to travel
along the same path
with our hands knotted
together and our hearts
beating in sync. We were
never supposed to go
our separate ways. 
And I’m sorry it took 
you leaving for me to
finally understand.

Falling in love with you
was not a mistake.
Making you a part of
my world was not
a mistake. But believing
that you loved me too
was the greatest
mistake of all.

+237 

5poetry

I never meant to hurt you. I just wanted to show you how it felt to be left alone when all you wanted was someone who could understand.

Stop telling everyone that I was the one who pushed you away. You were the one who’s heart was colder than the temperature outside during the most bitter winter.

I will always love you. Even when I don’t want you.

I’ve accepted the fact that you’ve moved on. That you’re able to pick up any piece of meat that looks your way in a beat down bar. But I have not and will never believe you when you say that you never loved me. That’s a thought that is too obscure to ever be considered as the truth.

I still love you. I’m still waiting.

When you wrote forever
you forgot to mention me.
When you wrote loyalty
you forgot to mention 
the lack of your own.
When you wrote love
you forgot to mention
how you never understood
the meaning behind it
when it was coming from
my mouth. When you wrote
longing you forgot to 
mention how I was the 
only one who ever felt it.

rak spójnej definicji miłości jest dowodem na nieudolność psychologów i filozofów. Skoro coś istnieje to musi istnieć również właściwa definicja - uniwersalna i spójna. Miłość mimo całej magii, całego pozytywnego i negatywnego ładunku - musi być opisywalna. I wg mnie wygląda to tak:

Miłość to nieracjonalne uczucie bliskości - wywołane wtórnym przeżywaniem własnych emocji.

Bo jak się przyjrzeć wszystkim zakochanym - to oni się podniecają przede wszystkimwłasnymi emocjami jakie wywołuje w nich obiekt miłości.
To jak bardzo podnieca ich obiekt miłości to pikuś przy tym, jak bardzo podniecają ich własne odczucia. To słynne ciepło koło serca, motyle w żoładku, wszelkie fantazje... to najważniejsze w zakochaniu.
Obiekt miłości potrzebny jest im do wywoływania tego stanu. Żeby mogli go znowu przeżywać. I znowu.

Jeśli ktoś się zafascynował drugą osobą, ale tego nie przeżywa, nie emocjonuje się swoją fascynacją - to miłości nie ma.
Może być ktoś najcudowniejszy, najwspanialszy - ale dopóki jest wspaniały po prostu obiektywnie - dla wszystkich, to nie jest miłość.
Miłość zaczyna się kiedy ten ktoś zaczyna być kimś szczególnym dla mnie.
Tylko dla mnie.

Bo zakochanie musi być subiektywne! Nieważne kim ktoś jest naprawdę - ważne kim on jest DLA MNIE. Właściwie nieważne jaka jest obiektywna prawda o osobie którą kocham - bo ważniejsze jest własne wyobrażenie i własne emocje - którymi się żyje, którymi się dzieli, które są bliskie. 

Dopóki nie ma myślenia o szczególnej więzi - to tej więzi nie ma. Może być miło, może być ciekawie, może seks, ale nic z miłości...
Wystarczy jednak, że się pojawi myśl o bliskości i myśl ta spowoduje jakąś miłą emocję...
Gdyby nie myśleć już więcej o tym, to nic nie będzie. Ale wystarczy zainteresować się tą swoją emocją, zafascynować nią i miłość zaczyna rosnąć. Im więcej emocjonowania się swoją emocją tym gwałtowniej przybiera uczucie.
Obiekt miłości jedynie może dawać powody, żeby pobudzić emocje - ale cały proces zakochania odbywa się w obrębie jednej osoby.

Zakochanie to uczucie wkręcone sobie samemu. Zdziwienie?
Bo to zwykle się wydaje, że ta miłość sama spadła jak jastrząb, chwyciła i trzyma!
No nie.
To przeżywanie tego, co się samemu czuje. Ekscytowanie się tym, jak taka wybrana osoba działa na własne emocje. 
Miłość to jest wkręt który niechcący każdy sam sobie zrobił.

Miłość przechodzi różne etapy. Na początku ta fascynacja własnym przeżywaniem jest największa. W końcu jednak ile się można tak podniecać własnymi emocjami?... Po szalonym zakochaniu później nie ma nic. Za to zostaje skojarzenie pozytywnych emocji z osobą (o ile zostaje - bo różnie bywa).
I na pytanie: czy wciąż kocham? - sięga się do emocji jakie się odczuwa.
I co?
Jeśli emocje są pozytywne ale nie powodują żadnego podniecenia (przypominam: emocje a nie obiekt uczuć) to już po ptokach. Może być pozytywnie, ale i tak już po miłości.
Jeśli emocje wciąż powodują wtórną przyjemność posiadania tych emocji - to miłość ma się dobrze.

To co piszę odziera trochę miłość z czaru i magii. Bo zakochanie zamiast cudownego zauroczenia okazuje się egocentryczną egzaltacją (którą właściwie uczono nas pogardzać) lub jakimś rodzajem nerwicy. Nic dziwnego, że takiej definicji nikt nie będzie chciał.
Ale i tak jest prawdziwa - czy się podoba czy nie. (tak uważam)

(pominąłem w niej cały aspekt tzw. "chemii" która bywa nieraz decydująca - ale działa też wg powyższych reguł) 

First things first, dispose of everything that reminds you of them. The things that they gave you as a token that they are still thinking of you, that things are still going strong. Box it up, throw it out, and if you’re really ready to let go, burn it. Take the photographs of when things were still going good, off of your wall and off of your computer. But most importantly, remove and erase the photographs of when you were happy. Forget about how good you look in their flannel shirt. Cut it up and bring a piece to all of the places that you ever went to together. Leave the memory behind along with shreds, and along with the pain. There is no looking back now.

"If you want to forget,"