|Aspiring actress and song writer. I am absolutely infatuated with words 💜 message me if you need someone to talk to 💜💜💜|
My heart stops, and falls in love... but then as soon as it’s over, it just falls.
I asked you what the name of the park was that we went to about 6 months past, and I expected you to forget, but when I asked, you answered “which one”, and that’s how I knew you still cared.
8 minutes of genuine kisses and devoted hearts is not enough to stop one from completely falling apart.
I have stars behind my eyelids,
Which is why I close my eyes when we kiss.
So I can find the universe smiling back at me knowing that I have found the one.
My name is Merideth.
And my favorite past time is putting trust into people who don’t deserve it.
Sometimes I want to fly
But I don’t know if I can, with wings that tremble with worries of yesterday and tears packed for tomorrow.
I am just an anxiety ridden caterpillar waiting for my wings to drag me down.
So many people, but I still feel lonely.
So many ears but I still go left unheard.
So many voices but I still can’t find my own.
So much pain but I still can’t ask for help.
The crowd sounded like bumblebees on the night of your memorial.
The air smelled like all the regrets of those who didn’t get to know you any better than a simple “hello”.
Your body lied cold and motionless on a warm night full of movement.
And in all those people.
And all that talking.
I was the only one who cried.
-To someone who will take the time-
My pleads don’t echo in his head. My begging doesn’t bounce off the walls. My pushing only lead to his pleasure. All I asked for was a friend, all he asked for was a photo. All I wanted was to help, and that I did- helped his cause. Like when he asked me to get him off in the parking lot. Or asked me to close the door. When he told me to be quiet. Or possibly when he told me to back down, all I did was help. Help his cause to get away so he didn’t have to hear the silent screams of a broken girl who is too polite to notice the danger of the bouquet of roses he embedded in my hands... because I was to encaptured by the gift and kindness to acknowledge that ...
We get so caught up in wanting the extraordinary moments in life that we forget to capture the ones that keep us ordinary.
You know it’s okay not to be okay,
But at what point did your levels of “un-Okay” exceed what was acceptable?
I cared all at once- which is why I don’t care at all now.
Because I work in extremes, and they are extremely unforgiving.
Words are just the weight of the world,
And in some cases,
the weight of the case.
It’s never the good people that tell themselves they are good people.
It’s never the bad people who tell themselves they are bad people.
Find someone to love your curves, because edges are for those who want to be cut.
Sometimes we spend so much time healing other people’s wounds, that we don’t realize that we are the one who’s bleeding.
I’m not really sure why I write anymore. It’s not because I feel something. It’s not because I want to. It’s not because I long for someone. And it’s not because I need them. I suppose it’s because the emptiness that I have felt for so long, has finally been lulled to sleep by the one I always want. The one I always need. I don’t write because the reason I always have has been erased from me, I write because I have finally found it.
Black was the color of ink used to dance across the cover of the book. Black was the emotion that crept its way into the house, crawling into our hearts and shattering conversation. Black was the sound of her screams as she was craving the poison cup. Black was the color of the night sky as two warm bodies begged for her to go back inside. Black was the thoughts of the baby screaming for comfort. Black was the image of two shillouettes coming to help. Black was the taste of sweat and salty tears stinging every action. Tonight was dark. Tonight was black.
Isn't it sad that we only speak of the good things after people pass away, when in reality, saying those things could have kept them alive.
In a world where "love" is filled with forevers that turn into Nevers and smiles turn into scowls, I will hold your hand on my heart and cry because forever means nothing when you have eternity in the palm of your hands
In a world where "love" is filled with forevers that turn into Nevers and smiles that turn into scowls, "I cannot wait to spend forever with you", I say with a smile and a kiss enduced with poison.
Your eyes were the color of the ocean. The ocean when it had a little too much to drink and swollowed a piece of the sky with it, and decided to keep it there, the everlasting pit of nothing right in it's center to glorify the Atlantic tides that swirl around it. The ocean got a little too tipsy last night as the night sunk deeper into it's center and engulfed the stars that surround it. I was standing on the shore when it all began. The tides were sweeping themselves in and out as I started talking to you and soon enough the ocean broke free and the tsunami hit the atmosphere and the water broke loose around the crest of the tide and spilled out toward whatever was beyond the oceanfront. The...
The worst kinds of nights are the ones where you are no longer afraid of the monsters under your bed, because you know whatever lives under there is much more comforting than whatever is in your head.
The truth is, that we are both a little broken; like a set of broken plates that have been taped together too many times to count.
Never will we ever have the ability to live without scars on our hearts from previous falls and breaks. Never will we ever see the world without the cracks in the sidewalks. Having to face the fact that we will never be brand new or perfect again.
But imperfect is all I need. Imperfect is perfect for us.
He was a serpent. Filling me with mock trust and morphing me into a lifeless being as soon as I was too far in the enrapturement to escape.
I hate reminding myself of these pains but I know it is my story to tell now to all of those who are finding themselves lifeless in the grasp of a lover who never asked for anything more than a warm body to treat like a cold body in the sheets.
He is all the simple things in life.
He is early morning smiles and Saturday cartoons. He is rain pattering on the roof and living room forts. He is hopscotch on a summer day or the smell of fresh cut grass in the spring. He is "party until I can't feel my face" and "cry until you have nothing left inside". He is the "don't forget to tuck me in" and kisses goodnight. He is whispers of "I love you" and tears of "I promise I will never let go". He is all the simple things in life.
And all the simple things are in him.
"If you love me, you would cut yourself to prove you would bleed for me"...
And without hesitation I cut my arm.
"If you loved me.. you would break your leg to prove you would fall for me",
and without hesitation I broke it.
"If you loved me... You would rip your own heart out to prove you would die for me",
and without hesitation I lie on the cold ground with blood pouring out of my body to prove to a man that I would die for him...
While he sits in his luxuries to prove that he would never raise a finger for me.
Some people are so caught up in chasing the past
That they have no idea what they will do with it as soon as they have caught it.
She told him stories of how she longed for the ocean. The brisk waves, the laughter, the sun. He told her stories of how he longed for the mountains. The pines, the wind, the sunrise. They told each other stories of how they longed for a future. Children, a home, a lifetime. Which is why... every night when they lay their heads down to drift to sleep, their souls would tip toe their way out of the mind and start an adventure recreating the stories of the beaches, mountains and futures to come. Together. And she would stare out at those wonders with a glimmer in her eye because she knew, he knew, they knew that this was meant for them. And every single night his soul whispers to hers "someday...
He became more than just a craving, when I wanted something sweet. He was no longer the morning coffee that I needed as a pick-me-up, because with that morning coffee I fell deeper in love with every single sip... Drink... Gulp of his love and passion. He was now my addiction running through my veins making the world appear as him and only him, covered in his colors he wore and fregranced in his cologne. He was now my morning gas station run, coffee break, and bedtime soother. He was my addiction and with every sip... Drink... Gulp... I just keep reminding myself why I never quit.