‘Take it easy little girl, wipe your tears away’
‘Take it slowly, don’t pressure yourself that much’
‘I think you should do that tomorrow, it will be a brand new day’
‘You there, don’t be so upset and stop blaming yourself for everything’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll come and pick you up’
‘Just stay calm okay’

There might be a thousand ways to love you. But the way that you held my hand whilst walking down the street, that is how I loved you. You were fucking there for me and you were tender as cherrytrees. You were wise and I adored you for being smart and thoughtful. I loved the way that you caressed my golden hair and stroked your hand upon my cheek. I thought that you would make me a better person.

You always told me to stay calm, and so I did. I patiently waited for you to come home, but it’s taking you so long. I waited for you to return my letters and I ended up blaming the mailman. I waited for you to explain to me what was happening and you left me in great confusion. I waited on you, like the calm before the storm. I waited for you to come pick me up, but you never came.

I waited for you to come pick me up, but you never came. I stayed calm, you taught me that. I stayed calm, serene, silent, dying actually, waiting for you to come pick me up.




As much as I write about how breathtakingly gorgeous our young love was, I despise the person you are, or who you try to be. I’m willing to believe that this is some act, some role-play and that you’ll admit it was a stupid joke. I despise the way that you neglected all of my affection towards you, even though you couldn’t stop talking to me. You didn’t ‘just’ leave, you shook the ground and earth to make it look like I made you leave. You turned the tables to set yourself free from the guilt that stroke upon you. I recognize you in the bitterness of my morning coffee, the one that looked so good. Cause that’s the whole point isn’t it? You made it look so fucking good. You made it look like I meant something to you, whilst you we’re just messing around. As a bored child you looked for something entertaining in that rotting life of yours. You rot with al the compost of dying flowers, the ones that ‘they’ gave you, your lovers. Your heart must be deteriorating throwing lovers away as if they were skipping stones. Fine. End up alone. End up with a list of blocked numbers because you couldn’t handle talking it through. You were such a brave girl but dear god you knew how to ignore your problems. I still despise you for that.

not so ordinary boy

He was so merely fascinated with the words that came out of my mouth. As he asked more and more questions he kept looking at me. He kept patiently looking for more secrets to reveal themselves. But those lines that stumbled out of my mouth had never been secrets, I never had anything to hide. I was never dreadfully mysterious or unexpected. I was an open book and nobody took the effort to read it. I haven’t met numerous people that found my honest answers so fascinating.

He kissed another blonde girl on the cheek, I got reminded by the fact that he wasn’t into me. I knew his kindness towards me shouldn’t be mistaken by affection, that was never his intention. Conjointly I never had intentions to meet his parents or to kiss his cheek. But he was into me at a level that he was more interested with the matrix in my head rather then the revealing ripped jeans.

I didn’t understand what made him different. Why did he care to look at me for more then numerable seconds. He had been educated for longer than necessarily. But he had a drive, an idea, he knew what determination was. He knew what it felt like to be all in in or all out.

He said he never met someone like me, I didn’t feel offended, I knew he wasn’t trying to be negative. And when he asked me about her I looked down and I couldn’t bare seeing her photo again. He noticed the way that my throat burned with her name. He noticed the way I couldn’t handle talking about the fact that she left. The not so ordinary boy said; ‘You really loved her, didn’t you?’



You and me

It was going to be you and me. It might have supposed to be a you and me. But you were to caught up in the misery of past relationships. You havent healed in any way and you were so distant. I don’t love you, not anymore, I don’t think I ever truly have. I liked the idea of you and me, but now it is just me. I can’t possibly dream of anything better. So for now I’m going to live and listen to my music to loudly. And I’ll stop being miserable about someone I don’t deserve. 

I choose love.

‘You don’t get to choose if you get hurt in this world.. but you do have some say in who hurts you.’
And I choose her. I didn’t even think twice, I choose her. I didn’t feel the need to question my choices, I never made rational choices, I simply decided. And so she did hurt me, and I gave her every right to. I let her in, I let her run into my arms. I let her touch my lips and let her breathe onto my bare skin. I never doubted anything, I’m all in or I’m all out. I will always give love a chance, because you can not fight it. Love made me smile for a month. Love made me giggle and stare into my screen for nights. And love made me cry, love made me question my existence without her. Love made my heart heavy with everything that reminded me of her. Love made me sad for a few weeks and dreadfully nostalgic for the months afterwards. I choose love and I chose her to hurt me. She held my heart and I was totally entitled to the way she sang my name. But she let go and now I mumble soothing words before I go to sleep. I was foolish, but I was madly in love with the one I choose, with her.

I was told – pt 2

We all know the empty space left in our beds feels like a black hole. But maybe there are galaxies on the other side, and maybe you will find peace with the fact that she left if you roll over. What if she wanted you to have more space to be free and to expand your dreamworld. If anything she never wanted you to feel like this. You were good enough and you deserve to be happy. Stop beating yourself up for all the little things that you might have done wrong, or all the words that you never said to her. You cant blame yourself for her decision, even when she admits to be wrong. I was told to never chase a girl, so you should let her run. Try to accept that she will not come back to you, and no nothing will ever be the same. And frozen days will be harsh without her presence in the cold wintermornings, and even this spring you’ll realize that you are still a bit lost. But time will pass and lonely mornings will end and this summer you will learn to be free again. I was told to always fight for love. Dont fight for a runner, fight for keeper. Fight for loving yourself again.


days are a long stretch of
giving in and giving up
and we keep staring into
our phone trying to find
someone that will speak to us

someone who will admit that
you have the right
to feel like the entire world
is trying to drag you down
into the cold graves

someone that will listen
to all our your stories
and respond with something
more meaningful then
the tiring usual ‘okay’

someone that will brighten
your regular rainy days
and convince you about
the fact that lighting
and thunder aren’t deadly

someone that will hold
the entire universe
between their lips
and hands you a taste
of toxic disbelief

someone that will be a
person on its very own
with an pedestal
and degrade every single
one before their presence

someone that will teach
you that love might not
always be lasting and that
you should stop reading
and writing about fairytales

and we will do it
again and again and again
until we are courageous
enough to finally live
and listen to ourselves