runealinwrites

[runealinwrites]

in my memory, you are a knight in shining armour, an angel who descended from the heavens to stitch me back together. in my mind, you are the blazing star of my existence, the lifeforce that keeps me going. in my dreams, you love me. but in truth, you're just another person who hurt me. in truth, you took my trust and devotion and turned them into weapons to use against me. in truth, i still miss you.

[runealinwrites]

i still think of you now and then. i still think of that fateful day when we met and you blushed and our hands brushed. and fireworks went off in my head and they sounded like a warning. they sounded like, "dont let it happen again." but it did. i still think of that sometimes.

[runealinwrites]

Once you've been bitten, your heart ripped out, the deepest of cuts justified by love, then every smidge of affection starts to feel suffocating. Every kiss on my cheek, every brush of my hand, every "I love you" raises bile in my throat. Renders me unable to speak. I am frozen in that moment all those years ago when love didn't save me. Every act of love feels like a threat, a trap, a prison that I cannot escape.

I'm sorry that I do not love you back. I could never hurt you so.

[runealinwrites]

you laughed and you were the brightest thing to ever light up my sky. but i was just one star in a sea of millions

[runealinwrites]

I loved you the way a flower loves the light - with all the ease of breathing. Like it was second nature. I loved you harder and more fiercely than I ever imagined myself capable of. Your darkness and your light, your rainstorms and your sunshine, every single version of you. And yet, like a flower left too long in the scorching sunlight, that love dried me up, burnt me out, and now you're gone, and I have lost not only you, but myself also.

[runealinwrites]

I read books that give me butterflies and a warm feeling in my chest, that make me feel trust and happiness and peace. An attempt at replicating feelings I've never felt.

I fall in love with every fictional character, but never with real people.

I fall asleep thinking about my favourite book couples, wishing someone's arms were wrapped around around me.

I yearn, so deeply, for someone to call my own. For someone to love me, truly and unconditionally.

I yearn for someone who knows my darkest secrets, my greatest fears, my strengths and weakness, and still doesn't turn, walk, run away. Someone who stays forever.

But all anyone ever does is leave, and all I'm left with are my books.

[runealinwrites]

I talk too much.

Like, I send too many messages.

I try to respond to every single one and then send ten more.

Like, I fill my messages with all of these various useless filler words for literally just the sole purpose of making them longer.

I talk so much more than anyone else because I'm afraid.

I'm scared of being insignifact.

I'm scared of people ignoring me, or worse, forgetting I'm there.

I'm so scared that they aren't paying attention, so scared that they don't care, so...

So I make sure they can't miss it. Can't miss me.

And I've tried to stop but every day I just get more and more scared.

So I'm sorry if I'm annoying, I'm sorry if you hate me, I'm sorry.

At least I'm self aware?

So please don't leave, please keep looking right at me, PLEASE- GO AWAY, PLEASE STOP STARING, PLEASE, STAY.

I talk too much.

Because I'm so terrified of being alone.

[runealinwrites]

You were the summer to my brittle winter, bright and all-encompassing. You were the air in my lungs, the sunlight on my skin, the laughter in my ears. Now I sit here in the deafening silence, shivering from the lack of warmth. Gasping from the lack of air. I hold on to words I now know were lies, soft promises whispered into the space between my lips and yours. Gentle reassurances that felt like the warmth of your breath on my cheek. But when you left, you took every ounce of that warmth, as well as my own meagre flame. And now I'm freezing again, and I don't know what to do with this sudden, burning cold. This bone-deep ache that feels all too familiar. I'm not ready for winter.