She Was Simply Lovely The Poems Say. But She Was Not Simply Anything. And That Is Why I Loved Her. She

She was simply lovely the poems say. But she was not simply anything. And that is why i loved her. She was complex and interesting. She was unique and beautiful. And she was lovely but not simply she was a complex sort of beauty.   

Ghost girl

~Saturday Afternoon Reflections ~ T.R.

Kinda just wanna makeout right about now

I broke a heart once

Twice

A few times

It is not what one might expect

Because most assume to break a heart

Means that you do not have one

That you have forgotten how to care for a delicate thing of that nature

But this is not true

To break a heart is to be reminded

That you do in fact have a heart

Feel it mirror each facture a thousand times over

And know that you caused this ache

I do not expect your pity

Nor your mercy

Do not ask you to forgive or forget the pain

But perhaps

Promise me you will try to be happy

In the way I could never make you

Promise me that you will not avoid eye contact in the halls

Smile like I am no one

That you will not change your seat on the bus

Sit next to me like I am stranger, far from perfect

Erase every trace of me

Every photo, email, sweater

Tell me that the light no longer refracts the shards of you that still cling to me

Tell me that you saw my blood sacrifice soaked sheets

That were a result of long sleepless nights being nicked by every last peice of your broken heart caught in my blankets

And threw them away

That you healed yourself and did not need me to do it

Tell me that you are happy

And I had nothing to do with it

But I suppose

I deserve no such redemption

And so I will sit here

With the ache of two people

Who never meant to break a heart

I broke a heart once. Twice. A few times. It is not what one might expect. Because I assure you every promise I have broken hurt me as much as it did you. Every night you cried yourself to sleep I was granted no such relief. I laid awake in bed, tossing and turning. Feeling the fragments of your heart sprinkled and caught in the bedsheets. They cut me every time I moved, breathed, blinked. Raging a million paper cut wound revenges. And I, bled out into the blankets without resistance. Thinking maybe you could use this blood sacrifice like glue. But you have never been the blood thirsty type.

~I never thought I would break a heart

When the shooting star is gone and the night is dark again, all you have left to hold on to is the faith that your wish was heard

~Excuses for missing you