No Ones Ever Let Me Break My Own Heart Like You Did . . .

Fuck.

I liked the way you let me break my own heart. I think I always knew I was safe to let you see that side of me. To see the broke down girl in the corner crying on her birthday. Because you’d always be there. But I know now that doesn’t always mean you’ll be in my life. We loved in the world of writers, we wrote each other into our stories and left them for the world to see. I will never be able to unravel you from those words, and why would I want to? In those stories lives a love so strong that it blew up so many lives. A love filled with sacrifice and two people finding their way back to each other over and over again. In those stories lives a love worth remembering. I used to compare us to the great love on the big screen, I think I was looking at the wrong ones. We found each other and burned too brightly this time around. But something in me can’t believe we won’t meet again and next time, we’ll get it right.

Because no matter how many goodbyes we’ve had, none have felt like forever.

Tell me every terrible thing you ever did and let me love you anyway.

Sade Andria Zabala, WAR SONGS (via wnq-writers)

We were once a collectors wine, now we’re a bottle for $4.99 on sale for half price.

You were the first and last person to hold my heart with all of its pieces.

Loving her was never going to be fair you know? 

its like trying to love a hurricane as its ripping through your sheets.

But she wasn’t always like that though.

She used to be the summer breeze as it whispered in your ear.

She was the sand in your shoe reminding you of sunny days on the beach.

Then she fell in love with her own hurricane and she was never quit the same.

He began as the ocean that she slowly let flow across her feet.

But before she knew it she was knee deep in the water, and soon 

she was swimming as far out as she could go. 

She loved the water rolling over her skin. 

Once she was too far out to turn back thats when the clouds began rolling in

The storm forced her under the water until her lungs felt as if they would collapse.

She began to love the burning in her lungs, the desperation for air, the blurred vision. But just as she was about to give in the storm brought her back to the shorelines tattered and bruised. 

She spent days and months on the beach hoping to be taken back out to sea. All she was given was the quiet whispers of the waves coming into shore. She spent her days chasing the storm, and nights in the warmth of others arms. She filled her lungs with cigarette smoke hoping for a moment to recreate the burning sensation and liquor to drown out the emptiness left inside. But she never was quite the same.

Like I said, Youll never forget your first hurricane. 

And now she’s yours.

“Timing is a hell of a thing. In the end, that’s what it all comes down to. The potency of an attraction or the purity of a connection mean very little if you’re on separate journeys. You and I were a perfect fit, we were, there was just too much distance between us to see it.”

- a love letter to whiskey

“It’s you, and us,” I added, motioning between us. “It’s this thing that never was, but always is, that never will be and will never not be”

Make me hate you