it's you. || 1/4
it's you. || 1/4 aspiringpoet stories
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anaspiringpoet
anaspiringpoet // some of my words. //
Autoplay OFF   •   3 months ago
it's you. || 1/4
it's been you for a while now.

it's you. || 1/4

it's you. || 1/4 it's been you for a while now.

it's you.

it's been you for a while now.

ever since you left.

it's you at 2AM - when i can't sleep,

and it's you at 6PM - when i can't eat,

and it's you - every minute in between.

it's you - when i do sleep,

and it's you - when i'm wide awake.

it's you - when i'm trying to study,

and it's you - when i'm trying to write.

you are everywhere, and you are everything.

you called me baby girl, and grabbed my waist from behind, and you pressed your mouth against my shoulder, and though you only bit down lightly, i could still feel you draining the blood from my body.

and i let you, because i thought that meant that you loved me, and that i didn't need it anymore.

that i didn't need anything else anymore, as long as i had you.

but holy fuck,

was i wrong.

and the next day, i saw you with her.

my ribs collapsed from the sudden swelling of my lungs, and there's a reason that ribs are cages, and that's to keep it all contained.

but when i saw you with her, everything exploded right out of my chest.

i looked down, and i saw my heart fall out of my chest and splatter all over the concrete, your name echoing up in cracked whispers from where it landed.

i saw you with her, and you two were taking pictures.

and i remembered something that my mom used to tell me.

if i wanted to know what someone feared losing the most in this cold life, to watch what they took pictures of. what they tried to capture the beauty of to savour for another day.

but you didn't have any pictures of me.

all you had were pictures of her,

and all i had were pictures of you.

and i felt the blow.

if someone punches you in the stomach, it'll hurt whether you are expecting it or not.

and so, if the person you love stops loving you back, you're going to feel the blow even if you saw it coming.

and i felt so stupid, because i saw this coming.

but i still felt the blow to my entire body the whole long walk home.

i remember that night after i got home,

because it was the night that my mom kept asking me about

the band-aid that i put above my collarbone the second i got home,

and why i stopped watering all of the daisies in the garden and let them die,

and why i won't stop crying,

and if the hole in my chest where my heart fell out was suicide.

i can't blame her,

if there were a tall building anywhere around here that i could run to,

i would race to the top,

but this city offers no escape,

just like you offer no escape.

through my tears, i apologized to her for the mess i had made.

i promised to clean it up later when i'd numbed over again. - e

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