He meant so much to me that to this day I can’t stop thinking about him. I spent too much time holding his hand and I told myself forever could be possible I forgot that some people can’t change, no matter how many nights you spend holding them as they cry into your chest and I forgot how to take care of myself because I was spending so much time towel drying his hair after his six mile walk to my house in the rain, I didn’t want to think those walks would end I didn’t think id ever be begging him to walk six miles in the opposite direction.
He meant so much to me that I left all my friends so I could spend my time with him and I thought if I let him meet every inch of me with his lips that he would never be able to kiss anyone else I forgot that mouths get greedy I forgot that giving yourself to someone will not make them do the same.
He meant so much to me that when I had to leave him I was etching his love letters into my thighs and I lost my ability to be comfortable with anyone else because I had taught myself that his scent meant safety every room became a nightmare every hug just reminded me that he wasn’t coming home, I started teaching myself that I was nothing without him, the whole time I was with him I told him I’d die if he broke my heart and I’m still fucking breaking in new ways four months later, I’m still dying and I have as many hospital bracelets as months we spent together.
He meant so much to me,
And I meant so little. I made myself less of a person because all I ever did i did for him, I forgot that I needed breath from my own lungs, not just his and I forgot that I could make my hands warm from something else besides his body and I forgot that my heart was mine, that I didn’t need to put my life in his hands I forgot that more than one person can hold something, I forgot how to love myself because I spent so much time loving him.
It’s been months and I still scream into my pillow, I hate him but I’d still let him come home because I taught myself that he was all I would know, forever, I’m lost without his certainty, but I can finally say I don’t love him anymore, I can finally say
He meant so much to me,
Instead of
He means. He meant so much
A heartbroken poem about moving on.
-s.o.l. (via ifellforfate)
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Don’t kiss him unless you are prepared for the gunpowder
he leaves hanging at the edges of your lips.

Don’t kiss him because
he has always been a loaded gun,
ready to shoot a round of bullets down your throat
when he kisses you back.
And when he does, oh darling,
you won’t dare complain about the blood clotting your stomach
or the burns his breath leaves against your face
or the way his hands grip your neck so tightly
you think he is trying to find a trigger to pull.

Don’t kiss him because
your mother never taught you that love
should taste like acid
or that it should leave holes in your chest where
you thought your heart was,
before he coaxed it out with
his hands
and left.

A Story A Day #6 by r.b (via rbcages)

(via rbcages)

157 notes
I fell in love with
the way you entered
a room like both
April and May —
coming in out of the cold
with the promise to
grow flowers in the
vacant places in my chest. (via lucyquin)
386 notes