i. When the waves roll in
and you’re left with nothing,
let them wash over you.

Mama always said
the only thing you can do to make it better
is to feel it properly when it’s bad.

ii. When you leave the windows open
and it leaves you cold and shivering,
let the storm blow in.

Don’t lock the doors. Open them up.
Pull back the curtains. Let the world in.

iii. When the phone rings
and it’s his number,
let it ring until it doesn’t
make you want to claw your ears out anymore.

Pick up the phone. Let him talk.
Remember that there is more to it
than the feeling in your chest
when he says goodbye.

2014, php
"you drink because you love him.
you drink because
every shot down your throat
tastes better than his name.
you drink because then maybe you can drown out
the sound of ‘i’m sorry, i’m sorry,
i’m so fucking sorry.’
there’s no room left
for his apologies in your chest.
and his name
left your lips
a long time ago."
1901, php
"you’ve got bitten back nails and a mouthful of bullets. when he kisses you it tastes like gunpowder. he says, ‘it’s such a shame’. he says, ‘you’re such a fucking mess’. and the truth is not that, but this: the way you ruin yourself trying to ruin him. ‘it’s such a fucking shame,’ he says. ‘don’t you get it? you hate yourself more than you could ever love me.’"
november, php

today my writing teacher said
you should write to somebody you love
so your writing comes out familiar
i almost laughed because
i’ve had enough familiarity to last me a lifetime
and i don’t want to write to you anymore

half the time i hate poetry
because it always comes out too honest but
not honest enough, not honest like
the way the words feel when i write them down,
the way the words feel when i drag them screaming
from my mouth

truth is
now i know what it feels like to be in your arms
i keep reaching out for them
only to find that you’re not here anymore
and my skin is still bruised where you kissed it
and my bed is still warm where you left it

and i hate the way you never leave doors open
and i hate the way i always search rooms for you
and i hate the way i can’t take the train
without reaching below the seats to check for old train tickets

and i want to rip my heart from my chest
because by this point it’s just baggage
and i want to forget the day i met you
and i hate the way you look at me
like you’re scared of the way you see yourself in me and

half the time i hate poetry
because it comes out honest but not
honest enough, because i’m here and you’re not,
because there is a word for this
and i don’t want it
i don’t want it

i don’t want to write to you anymore, php

you left and the electricity died. all the lights, all at once, bam. i called out the electrician but he couldn’t do a thing, said it was as if all the light had been sucked from the house, said maybe i should just leave the house and all its tangled wires behind. months later i taste the London air and think of you, the way you used to fill up spaces, and try to not imagine you there. i write it down and don’t call you.

when i see you again later, much later, you’re so drunk you can’t even stand and you tell me you love me. i leave and i take the wires, lock the doors; i write it down and try not to imagine you here and. i don’t call you. i don’t call you.

the electrician’s love story, p.h.p

This is a little prose piece I wrote called Sleepwalking. :)
(at most) I'm sleeping all these demons away (3862 words) by someonelsesheart [AO3]

Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Teen Wolf (TV)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Author Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Malia Tate/Kira Yukimura, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski

"I think we should start having sex," says Malia.

"What," says Kira.

"you taste like heaven
and feel like hell. my mother always said
that there is a secret
in the shadows of your eyes
that promises not to be told, that it will tear
us both apart.
our love story goes like this:
you call me at 3am and expect me to call back,
and i do, i do, i do and i hate myself for it.
you take my favourite shirt and pretend
you don’t fall asleep wearing it.
you kiss me with your eyes wide open
and love me with your mouth shut.
and i take it all. and i take it all.
our love story goes like this:
i will love you until you hate me.
and then i will love you still."
maybe she was right, php
"you should not be scared
of what breaks you.
it is the things that trip us
that remind us to keep getting up."
this is a reminder not a death sentence, php

i loved you the way you left me,

slowly then

all at once

(we were never meant to be anymore

than the things that broke us)

maybe they’ll talk about us some day,

the way we fell apart

maybe they’ll talk about how we loved each other so much

it killed us both


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