• Archive for December 2nd, 2012

    Brotherless

    by  • December 2, 2012 • * Safe for Work *, Grief • 0 Comments

    Come back to me. Please. I can’t even deal with how lost I am without you here with me right now. You, my brother, who I talked to about everything. I facebook you every day, and even though you never reply, I will never stop leaving you those little notes, those little hints that whisper

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    Am I crazy for loving you?

    by  • December 2, 2012 • * Safe for Work *, Cheating • 0 Comments

    Am I crazy for loving you? You came over. And we made love. You had to leave. You always have to leave.. You left another item this time. Before it was deodorant, This time a toothbrush… I can’t figure you out. You say we are friends… But more. You treat me like I am the

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    i miss you.

    by  • December 2, 2012 • Love - Pure and Simple • 0 Comments

    It’s strange how you get used to the hurt. Nothing is ok, nothing is resolved, and if you let yourself think about that one thing (person) that happened for too long, the pain is suddenly all you can feel. And I’m talking crippling pain. The kind of hurt that makes you sob until all you

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    No funny business – deal?

    by  • December 2, 2012 • * Safe for Work *, To You • 0 Comments

    I can’t stop thinking about that kiss on the porch… when I first looked into your eyes by the river, and how great it was to simply be with you. It is insane, I have read up on all the scientific aspects to why I might feel this way, as this feeling, like meeting you,

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    The “Other” Girl

    by  • December 2, 2012 • * Safe for Work *, Resentment • 0 Comments

    I hate you. I have only met you once, and you were so nice to me. But I hate you. You were his first, and I can’t forgive you for that. It’s so dumb, you slept together before I even knew him, but I still hate you for it. There’s a part of him that

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    To A Pearl

    by  • December 2, 2012 • * Safe for Work *, Regret • 0 Comments

    To a Pearl, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry to the point of wanting to tear my own hair out and throw it on the floor, proclaiming that it’s all entirely my fault. For a while I felt so guilty, like a murderer because I had killed something so nice, kind, and innocent. And you were

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