Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Personal, Writing


Yellow stars fading into the darkness,

replaced by blue,

and then red.

I am homesick for you,

holding the necklace you got me for my birthday,

to my beating heart,

like it was my connection to God,

watching New Year’s fireworks,

halfway through the calendar,

because you fracture my thoughts,

and the way time interacts with me.

There are fireworks inside of me.

I am ready to be a bright star,

running over with fanatical fever.

You said I looked beautiful when I smiled,

so I tried to do it more,

because I value validation.

I vent to you,

on the phone,

when I’m tired,

and then I sit still,

soaking up the small moment of silence,

before you tell me again,

that I’m the most beautiful girl you’ve ever fucked.

That’s enough.

It feels like love,

you whisper true love,

when you think I’m sleeping,

so I can accept your emotional unavailability,

when you think I’m not dreaming.

My eyes are always searching for your own,

so warm,

in an icy existence,

lonely for the way you are just tall enough to make me feel small,

in a sweeter, sensual way,

that I never felt with anybody else.

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