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We were supposed to be best friends But turned out to be worst enemies…
They say revenge is a dish best served cold.
It started with a lemonade And ended with my heart This, my pretty reckless rival, is how our screwed-up story starts
“What would you have asked of me if I took the sea glass?” “To save me all your firsts,” he whispers somewhere between my ear and mouth as his body brushes away from mine.
The night before senior year I spotted you on those bleachers You looked adorable Your heart cracking for a guy Who would love to smash a foot in it and crush it into pieces
Vicious is Vaughn’s dad and the deadliest mofo in the neighborhood. I crushed on him when I was five. Baron “Vicious” Spencer is still a hottie, so #SorryNotSorry.
While you were worried about me I fucked your friend from cheer She gave me a BJ and a beer I still hate you, make no mistake And would love nothing more than to see your pretty neck break
You poured misery into me Let it simmer for a while And now it is time for you to taste What you’ve created
You are beautiful like a song Ugly like a scream But beneath your pretty bones You’re lost from deep within I want to dig inside the fissures of your soul Pull out all your secrets Dump them at your feet Then devour your expression For your pain shall taste so sweet
You Make me Want to grow Even though you act so small I want to put you in my pocket and save you from yourself
It was love at first sight Hate at second Lust at third But four is my lucky number So mine your ass shall be
You wear your lies Like a tie Too beautiful to remove Too elegant to resist Too tight to breathe
She’s a work of art And as such There’s nothing more devastating Than watching her break
I hate lying to your face But I love watching what I can do to you When my mouth says things That undo you
He wants to let her go But can’t seem to set her free Because if she does end up returning She’ll see who he fell in love with and flee
You came back to me like a tempest Beautiful and dazzling and destructive Ripping everything in your wake Including, but not limited to, my heart
You’re tearing confessions from my mouth Reactions from my flesh Fights from my fists Blood from my heart With your eyes alone Sometimes I want to break the wall I built between us Let you in And watch you destroy me
I wish I could rewrite you out of my life But all your pages are highlighted Dog-eared and thumbed to death I can no longer read you But you are still my favorite poem
You think you are so fake But you’re the realest thing I’ve ever seen Painful to watch Beautiful to see Shattering to touch
If I could hate you Like you hate yourself I wouldn’t be eaten alive By guilt Desire And lust
There is nothing more poetically inspiring Than loving the right person At the wrong place At the wrong time
You kill me with your eyes Burn me with your smile Bury me with your indifference
Behind every untrusting girl is a boy who made her that way
Listen to the chaos Brewing in your head This, my pretty reckless lover Is how our story ends
The weight of my love for you Buried me so deep I can no longer sleep Or eat Or meet My own eyes in the mirror
Love is so much like death Certain Absolute And out of our control
I want to be your everything Other than one thing Your past
Love is humbling.
I love you, Daria Followhill, and I think you love me, too. In fact, I think we fell at the same time. You, like rain, in drizzles, over the weeks. Me, like the fucking sky above my head, all at once, crashing without the faintest chance of stopping.
“You were never a drizzle, Penn Scully. When I fell for you, you came beating down, and I felt you everywhere. You were hail.”
Why didn’t you tell me we were in love? Why did you wait for me to find out When you broke my heart?
Heavy is the fist that belongs to a father who just learned his precious daughter has been mentally abused since age fourteen by her school principal. Heavier is the fist of a man who learned about it after his daughter has been through hell and back this year. I’m a take-no-prisoners type of man. When I aim—it’s for the kill.
Falling in love is similar to déjà vu It’s finding a home in a stranger When I met you four and a half years ago, I saw who you were I just had to figure out who I was So I gave you something to make sure I could seek you out again And that maybe, you’ll fall in love with whoever I was, too
People are apples. Good apples. Bad apples. Too ripe or too raw. Hard or soft. Sweet or sour. And in every apple, there’s a core. A heart. Something that makes them uniquely themselves.
Loving you is like Listening to a song For the first time And somehow knowing all the lyrics
I breathe your name Hoping to fill my lungs With more than just air
How sweet must it be To look into your eyes again and see If I’m killing you like you’re ruining me
Love is a battlefield And I think I fucking died (last entry)
And that’s what good friends and families do. They pick you up and pull you out of the mud of your own mistakes. And when you’re not the best version of yourself? Well, they’re still there, waiting, because we’re all fucking human.
