Writing is my only way of being with you.

I love sitting by the window late at night- to see the stars staring down at the girl with the troubled mind. Without tongues and lies they could spread, they are harmless to be around.

I tell them about you. Wonder if they remember how you looked like. They glisten just like the drops that fall from my eyes. They say girls with damp eyes tend to forget the world behind the heartache haze. You once told me you couldn’t stand to see me cry.

The nights are sleepless and the days are nothing but a phase. Seems like I’ve forgotten how I was ever supposed to get over you. Sweetheart, sometimes I can’t even remember the daylight upon your face. 

Girls lose their hearts to boys they’ll never really know. But not me baby, I knew you best. You were the only secret I came to treasure as if it were my own.  So how can I say we were over before it ever began.

Vague words rain down on my mind. Writing is my only way of being with you.

My hands spell things like I love you. Things like I will never love someone like you again.

It’s not over, baby, but neither did you stay.

Why would you still care about the one who couldn’t stand to have you around.

Why would you care about the one who couldn’t live without you either way.

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2 thoughts on “Writing is my only way of being with you.

  1. This hurts to read because I relate to the feelings you describe, but it’s written so beautifully that I can’t help but read the words over and over. Thanks for being so open ❤

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