finishing-your-sentences

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Tiny Love Stories

“thank you for the flowers.

i shall cherish them till they die”

“thank you for the memories.

i shall cherish them till i die”

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I don't know where he went

Leaving me in the blink of a second

Like a dark horse

He went up the stairs to heaven

Sometimes I wonder what he's doing

Whether he's safe and warm

and fed and clean

Because I'm sure not

Without my little black bean

Wherever he is

I hope he's happy

With his favourite toys

And a whole lot of company

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A Real Woman

she wore nude lipstick

that didn't match her skin

and hair stubbles

from shaving on her chin

she wore gold earrings

and mismatched second studs

with a striped shirt

and a pair of earbuds

sweat lined her eyebrows

like an invisible accessory

as she wiped it away

using her handkerchief's embroidery

straightened in the front

her hair completely afoul

“because i couldn't reach the back”

she said with a little scowl

when the yellow moon shined

her eyes would brighten

but make no mistake

for she was a real woman.

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can't believe I'm

saying this.

but I miss you

so much

I want to go back

to our wonted bliss.

even though you don't

mean anything anymore

I feel like if I

think hard enough

you'll become real

and pull me out this burrow

but I know your dead

dead the moment you

forgot to breathe.

with scars as reminders

I'll never know if

you actually loved me.

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As humans we're never happy with what we have. We're always searching for something more, something bigger, something happier. Because there's always, always something better. But in reality, that's not really the truth. Sometimes we just need to take a moment - to stop and smell the roses. To remind ourselves that we are blessed, and there are people who would give anything to be in our shoes. Sometimes it's just nice to be grateful. Because that's what makes us truly human. 

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An Oscar Wilde Prompt

Death must be so beautiful.

Ethereal like the horizon

of a sinking beach,

like light spilling through

the glass windows

of my house in Missouri.

Death must be so beautiful.

So much more beautiful than she.

She who stood in front of the

world for him,

and he who failed to see.

Death must be so beautiful.

That the sun, moon and stars

would come down to the ground

to bid farewell thee.

Death must be so beautiful.

So beautiful that we know

not what lies beyond,

a seraphic oblivion

or a devilled singularity.

Death must be so beautiful.

That the angels would fly down

to bestow upon me a kiss,

only to rip me apart,

from my wonderful, wonderful bliss.

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I think about you a lot. I miss you a lot. I hope you know how much you mean to me. It hurts to see you so okay, while I struggle to get through each day. I hope that every notification is your text. I hope that you want me. Truth is I still hope that you'll come back to me. But I guess the truth is you're gone and you'll never find your way back to me.

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Love should catch like food in the teeth.

(I’m once again trying to find the text post that Inspired this)

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But did you really love him? Yes. I did. I loved him through the fights, the tears and the noise. I loved him and I don't regret a minute of it, because at the end of the day, with him, the love was worth it. I loved him and I'd love him all over again in a heartbeat.

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July 21/March 22

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@chloeinletters on instagram

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all the glamour and the trauma and the fuckin' melodrama

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from In the House With No Doors by Sarah Kay

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One of the earliest lessons my mom ever taught me was that life isn't fair. Whenever I complained about something saying, "But that's not fair!", she would reply back with "Yes, life is not fair". Life is not fair when you do everything right, yet everything seems to go wrong. Life is not fair when the person you want doesn't want you back. Life is not fair when you have to go through things that you don't deserve to.

But,

life is beautiful when you hear your first 'I love you'. Life is exciting when you land your dream job. Life is colourful when you create your happiest memories. Life is fun, wonderful and worth savouring.

Yes, life is not fair. But life is so many other things too.

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I hate this feeling 

of realising.

Realising I was happy,

for two hours in my 

car seat. 

Happiness like water 

in the scorching heat. 

Like sunlight

to a rotting

tree.

Like nothing had

ever changed. 

You looked at me 

and I was ready to forgo

all of my rage. 

But little did I 

know, 

disappointment awaited 

me like a dark 

shadow. 

My head in my palms, 

instead of being up 

in the clouds,

I was a fool to think that

you would walk me to my house. 

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Jack drowned in the Atlantic

for his Rose,

and now I write for them, 

in my poetry and prose. 

Orpheus lost Eurydice

at the edge of the world,

but he walked through the dead, 

for his true forevermore. 

Shah Jahan and

Mumtaz Mahal.

The kind of love 

that gave us the Taj Mahal. 

And in the kingdom

by the sea, 

lied Poe at the tomb, 

of his beautiful Annabel Lee.

Because love is a tragedy, 

weaved with a broken thread

and a heart wrenching malady. 

And as Shakespeare once said,

"For never was a story

of more woe,

than this, of Juliet 

and her Romeo."

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Happiness. I know her.

She has black hair and a wide smile, and she smells like honey most of the time.

She has dimples and big dreams, but sometimes she's lazy, because she's only nineteen.

She has the loudest laugh and braces in her teeth,

because she wants to be pretty when seen.

She loves the rain, and to paint, but she's scared of the dark, in the most terrible way.

She bakes chocolate chip cookies, and is kind and generous,

as she should be.

Happiness. I know her. She's my best friend.