I Hope He Knows That It’s Him I Love Most. That From Now, In Every Life, I’ll Search For Him. It

you’ve ruined 11:11 for me

the more I grow older, the more I realise, poets are liars. missing someone is not a romanticise ghost that haunts the corner of my room. It’s not remembering the smell with the flashes of good memories resurfacing . it’s hearing someone that sounds like them and your throat catching and then suddenly you’re unable to speak. It’s smelling what they used to smell like, and an uneasy amount of home sick rises up to your stomach and all of a sudden it pours out. It’s going to bed with a drowned pillow because the moment you close your eyes, they’re there. Picture perfect, as clears as day. the way they felt burns your body from the inside out. failing in love with someone is like the loving the devil, you’re lucky if you’re anything but a pawn in his silly little game.

I hope when I grow up I’m still the same person I am now.

I hope I still find joy in the different colours of the sky

I hope I still see love as one of the most beautiful thing in the world.

I hope my heart still stays kind.

I hope I still find peace is helping the homeless, seeing kids smile, believing in God.

I hope the sound of the rain is still my favourite sound and I never not see the beauty when the sky pours it’s own melancholy.

I hope art is still the only thing I know.

I hope New York still holds my heart right in-between it’s big city lights

Remembering how free it made me feel when I saw them for the first time when I was 13. And the fleeing moment when they stole my heart on the TV screen when I was 3.

I hope cats are still my favourite animals, that by the time I’m 60 I have at least 100.

I hope Disney movies are still my security every night I feel alone, and that chocolate is still my favourite thing to eat into after a bad breakup.

And that I never forget the dances to grease, that I’m still alive to watch my husband dance with my daughter to the songs as me and my father used to do when I was younger.

That country music is still the only way to understand any kind of hurt and conflict in my life.

I hope I never lose my love for Christmas and Halloween. That every year I get to decorate my house with too many lights and big Christmas trees. And that I get to give the kids extra candy and become the favourite house to trick and treat to.

That every time I pass a park with monkey bars I will still try it, knowing I’ll fail but hoping that I will at least get past one.

I hope when I grow up I’m still the same person I am now.

I hope I never grow up.

how the imagination is thick inside my head

you on top,

me underneath,

crumbling by just sound of your voice.

moaning by the touch of your fingers, and oh, how you move them just right.

tonight with you, I meet heaven for the very first time.

#poem #writer

I knew a girl once.

who was so in love with this one boy.

that when the world turned upside down and burnt inside out.

God seeked her out. He knelt to her and asked.

“Tell me my child, one choice only. who do I save? you or him? him or everyone else?

with no hesitation the girl screamed on her own last breath “HIM. SAVE HIM”

she’s a very different girl now to who I once knew.

I pray one day she understands why God chose to save her instead.

Love me and I’ll do the best I can to steal the night sky for you.

I am too good at loving the villain, romanticising the devil. maybe this is why I always searched for monsters under my bed, ready to invite him in.

maybe all this time, the monster under my bed was you. I was destined for nothing other than a fire love, torture. this is why your pain does not scare me. I was born to love your darkness and fed you my light.

come on my love, I will hide under the bed with you forever.

The raging impulse that love gives us. The thump and creeks of the hallway floor as I ran after you. The drum of my heart had never been so loud.

I stood in front of you, pleading for your love. “You’re hurting me, but still I want your love”. There is no “I love you” better than the way you say it.

If having you meant to be hurt then so be it. Destroy me, burn me to ground and forget about my ashes, love me but love twenty other people at the same time…at least you’re still loving me, right?

I love you, but you don’t love me and I don’t know how to cope. So I’ll bleed a thousand words until love doesn’t feel like choking anymore.

now that I’ve embarrassed myself in the lime light of love. Now that I’ve put harm to myself and threatened you. Now that I’ve clawed my way of the emergency room with hands pinning me down.

Can I finally let you go. Can I forget the sound of your voice, can I stop trying to breathe how you breathe.

Is this the final act of loving you.

gonna have to prepare myself for the "we all owe taylor an apology" when reputation tv comes out and people finally listen and understand the album..like no..I don't owe taylor an apology, YOU do x