Bad habits

I will not let you make a bad habit out of me

When you left I was no longer yours,

I was never yours to begin with

and you cannot come and go as you please.

 

I will not let you make a bad habit out of me.

Yet somehow those words seemed to offend you.

Like you somehow felt that I was yours,

till you find another.

 

But my mother did not carry me for nine months,

to be indebted to you

when we ended after two months

something you refuse to

acknowledge unlike my birth.

 

I will not let you make a bad habit out of me

because you see no wrong

and it doesn’t feel right.

I deserve better and I plan to receive the very best.

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– no more –

this piece speaks for itself. not much to say except i hope you enjoy! 

At certain times I feel content with the way things are, I don’t complain about the scars and the passing emotions that at unwanted times collide with my broken heart.

I don’t mind the building anger that I feel because of the pleas, my heart when it begs for you.



You move so independently, freely and so immediately you’ve forgotten as if you’re already forgiven for the pain and the misery you cause. Like you don’t know how often you carry me away in thoughts of surreal reality and your knowledge of how you’re loved by an inner part of me. However you don’t realise that your absence is near enough killing me.



Bringing me to almost tears as I’m wallowing in my mind. My deepest fears I find there, it’s not clear what the cause is but the moments of regret crawl deep into the depths of my brain’s skies.



I find the words to speak my mind but they are not coherent with the troubled content. Simple words fail to describe, depict or revive. The jumbled words stay with no response and remain deviant to my cognitive commands.



Addiction to love, the feeling of. The drug similarities are crystal. I give up trying to sober up. Absorb rather than rehabilitate and cover my addiction, also known as attraction but this is a devotion of the soul to one being, tired of being alone and covered within depression. Engulfed with the burden of keeping in my expression and unconfessed confession.



How many times can I learn one lesson? How much do I have to fight until I’m beaten down? No more feeling, no more love. No more daydreams equals no hurt. No open doors no chance for heart ache, no more battles in my head.



I think I am better off. The me that dances in the sun and revels in thoughts of the one is better of gone. The me that rejoices in vulnerability, unknowingly moving with naivety tied to her tired heart had better move on.



This heart of mine that jumps at the sight of possible love, smiles at the realities that shine in the real world. My heart, forever in pieces that wishes and wonders how. When will it be delicately placed together again?



Broken. Unspoken words stay woven into the intricate pieces that will forever say separated and until that day, buried it will stay.

– @mitchieer