why is being in love scarier than the paranormal activity movies?

november 9th, 2018 — 7:47 pm.


inside the shack stacked with wood and woe,

where we used to spend time drinking coffee and laughing at my overconfidence.

and the impregnable amount of “i love yous” found in our messages.

when the world was filled with yellows and pinks,

and the lake was no longer ominous seeming,

you used to hold my hand and tell me how everything was going to be okay,

because you knew we would get through it all.

until we didn’t.


our hands unlatched like the bra straps i never learned how to undue.

because of you, i didn’t know life outside of the shack.

you helped me see the winds and smell the colors,

and now my fingers can’t distinguish the sounds i once knew.


every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end,

so i poured gasoline and kerosene on everything in hopes that the fires of our endings will keep me warm and alive for my next beginning.

what i’m hoping to be my last beginning.

losing you made me feel lost but not broken.

choking on tears and ashes,

as i’m learning to love without you,

and waiting to be found.

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