#bedlightwriting

[bedlightwriting]

I didn’t know

When does it end, when does the hurt stop, when am I finally free? I see a piece of you in everything, in a movie we watched or a place we kissed, in someone who dresses like you. I didn’t know that it would end this way.

I need you like I need sleep: against my fucking will, I hate you but I want you more than I’ve ever wanted. I see you in every set of blue eyes and the way you looked breathless every time I close mine. This isn’t right, it never has been but having you wasn’t either, and I didn’t know. I don’t know if you took so much of my innocence that I can’t tell what’s right or wrong or if I’m just still not over you.

But I am, I know me and I don’t cry when I look at a sunset anymore. I’m happy again, but I can’t listen to that playlist or read that diary I started when we did. Every time I close my eyes, wishing for sleep I see a movie composed entirely of you, your eyes, your lips, you teeth and your tongue, the way your body rolled and that delicious look on your face that I wish I didn’t know. How am I to live without knowing what you taste like? How would I if I did? I don’t know what will happen, or even what I want to happen, but I crave you, I burn for you, you are missing from me and it all feels so wrong. I swore I’d never give you, or anyone, the power to make me feel like that but hypocrisy finds us all in weakness.

I remember the ache, the pain, the hurt, the countless nights I cried alone in my room, the fights, that text you sent me that broke me like glass. And most of all, I remember the walk to your car, I didn’t know, the sun was shining and my skin was cold, I still loved you and that’s all I cared about. We got in, and I didn’t know. you started, you asked me to promise I wouldn’t be mad at you, and didn’t continue until I did. I had a feeling, but I didn’t know, the air didn’t come as easy and my heart seemed to slow, my face burned with fear when you started talking, and when I asked what it meant and you said we should break up it was like a pebble lodged in the hole of a great dam. I knew the crash would come but I didn’t care because you were shaking, you were frail and your voice broke, I had never seen someone so ruthlessly strong look so small and broken. I enveloped your hands in mine as you spoke and the funny thing is that I think that gave you the strength to finish. I knew the way your voice grew in strength when I reached out. In that moment my cold hands didn’t matter, and the only thing I knew was kindness, I just wanted you to feel better. But I hated you for giving us so little time to talk, giving an empty promise that we never fulfilled to continue it later when I asked. When I caught your eyes I didn’t miss the view of a boy scared out of his fucking mind who had no idea what he was doing: I hadn’t seen him in a very long time.

An hour later I was sobbing so hard I couldn’t breathe, I thought, or rather hope, that I was going to choke on my own sorrow and not have to live another day without you. But it’s not like you were even there before, so it didn’t matter, did it? I finally had freedom to let go, though. Every day since, the lights brighter; the colors prettier; the sunsets more mesmerizing than ever; the food more flavorful; the pain a little smaller, i didn’t know I could feel like this.

It’s been months, and I’m happy, I don’t need you and I refuse to ever need you again, but I crave your touch like a drug. I close my eyes and I see all the things we never got to do, your hands on my body, tongue in my mouth, the way your lips part, the muscles of your arms working, the way your face might screw up, it’s all I see. It haunts me at night, I want nothing else from you, but if I could have one last moment of us together I would take it, regardless of consequences. Other people have grabbed my interest, but none of them compare to the way I want you. And I hate you for it; you’re a stranger now. And God, some times I can’t tell if I’m glad or if I wish I didn’t fucking know.

[bedlightwriting]

Sometimes

Sometimes

I wonder, what to you it would mean

What, if anything, it would do, If only you knew

That I imagine, sometimes, under the stars

The boulder in my chest melting for you

Visions of bodies held close, swaying against the breeze

Next to a wine dark sea

Shallow dreams outlining silhouettes on the wall

As my favorite TV show performs to an empty room

Our bodies close and our hearts closer

Hazy hallucinations of Christmas at my parents

My brothers side by side, you in their midst as if it was an empty photo without you

Visions of my feet on your lap, the smoke burning my throat

Moonlight in the reflection of your pupils as you take the next

Brown on blue as a story untold

The intoxicating taste of sweet sin on your lips under a streetlight

But

Then again, every vision of you falls under Stygian skies

I am not your love; and you are not my light

My calloused heart doesn’t have the room you deserve

Sometimes, perhaps, it might be alright to pretend we are more

Dancing under the moon and singing with the stars

like this world was made to be ours

I know you won’t last forever

And you may never hear my mothers laugh or shake my fathers hand

Never experience the camaraderie among my brothers

But sometimes, for a brief moment, we might offer solace to one another in this unforgiving world

You’ll never be mine, but I’ll hold you like you were all along

I will never be yours, but your hand on my waist fits like I was made to be

The world is hard and angry and shitty

And if my only role

For you is a brief moment of respite

I’m okay with that, I just hope you are too

[bedlightwriting]

I know now just as I knew then

That it was only desperation

when you reached out to me

You were dear to me, before her

Not the same way but close all the same

And she came, and filled your days with light and lust and happiness

And when it fell, you came crawling back to me

Like you always do

A year and a half passed

I lived, I loved, I lost, I lived again

Sweet words and a broken past

Confusion, desperation and regret

all wrapped up in the form of a tall boy with dark hair and amber eyes

Knocking on my door

How could I say no? I’ve been desperate too.

And god, it was good

And then you had to promise me

That you would never leave

It could have been perfect before, and not even an hour later you text her

And now, like a boulder in the ocean, the feeling that your promise rings empty creeps ever closer

I knew this would happen

They never stay

No one is permanent, I learned that early on

Of course I knew

But sometimes I wish it just wasn’t true

I wish those words meant to you what they could’ve meant to me.

If only I could believe what you tell me

Lies are sugar and a sweet tooth leaves a rotten mouth.

Maybe one day your words will look less like candy

Maybe I’ll be here in a year, maybe five, maybe never, but for now, my amber, I’ll pretend to be yours and you can pretend you don’t want her

[bedlightwriting]

It’s always been will they, won’t they with us. From that first day, I craved you, and even then I knew that I’d get you under my hands if it killed me.

Will they, won’t they like each other? We danced around each other for months, “just friends”, “nothing is happening”, “I won’t do anything.” The dance was intoxicating, the chase, the thrill, your baby blues locked on mine as we spun until we came away dizzy.

Will they, won’t they get together? At some point we both knew without having spoken a word. And then my friend spilled it, your face flushed and we locked eyes. Our parents were on board, why not? We became drunk off the freedom we found in the other, the risk, the game. We weren’t allowed to be very much, and it ached.

Will they, won’t they kiss? My mother didn’t want me to, but she wanted me to not do a lot. We began to slip, and I caved a little to save it. I just slowed the process. Two months later and even now I still feel my hands pulling you in and the console of your car digging into my stomach when I finally claimed your lips. But that kind of excitement was short lived, we fell, slipped. A month later and I was in agony like I’d never known, you were distancing yourself and I was breaking into so many pieces.

Will they, won’t they break up? I still feel it, the change in air pressure, the way your voice shook in mirror of your own traitorous hands. You were so scared, but so was I. Before you even started you made me promise I wouldn’t be mad. I think I did. And we broke up. And never a day forward did I reach out to you first, and sometimes I think you were waiting for me to set the standard. You were following after my image of what we would be now. But the thing is, that’s what I was doing with you. You broke it off, you set the standard. And maybe you took my silence as breaking my promise, as a show of anger. But the thing that you don’t realize is that my silence was slow, torturous, painful self respect. To me, I looked you and death in the face as I pulled the dagger from my own chest. You want to help? You have hands. Want to be at my side? You have legs. If you wanted to do anything but sit and watch, you know how. So don’t tell my friends you miss me when you have done nothing to show it. You have my number. It means nothing.

A feeling tells me our story isn’t over yet, though, and a part of me craves you like nothing else. Maybe I just need to touch someone else, but I don’t know if I will. You might actually be the one who got away, with my heart in tow. But stop playing games. If you want to come back fucking do it.

Will they, won’t they find each other again? That one I don’t have the answer to.

[bedlightwriting]

It’s funny, to me

That I always find myself back here

A cycle forever repeating, until the day yet to come

When I finally learn to see clear

How to love myself enough to not choose him

We planned costumes for Halloween

Matching pajama for Christmas

A kiss for New Years

Chocolates for Valentine’s

A day for Easter and a date for my birthday

Halloween has passed

I thought you’d still be here

I caved and gave you the hoodie I was saving for Christmas two weeks before that day

When everything changed

The leaves are gone, the air is chilled

And I’m glad I did, my dear

Christmas is in three weeks

And I thought you’d still be here

But even when I think of the days to follow

I’ll know I’m better off without you

Than I was hollow

I’ll never forget

Your hands on my body and your lips on mine

That feeling of ecstasy

Or the way I wished you made time

How badly I wanted you to actually see me

How I miss calling you mine

And knowing I was better off before you

You were everything, and now you have to be nothing

So I’ll crack a joke or two

Ask about your mom

And not notice the day I stop seeing you

[bedlightwriting]

“When did you fall in love?”

Fall? Darling, I jumped. This wasn’t an act of blind faith, of turning away from the edge and stepping backwards, with my arms out wide, trusting and believing you’d catch me at the bottom as I closed my eyes. Or stumbling, in a panic and caught by surprise as I looked down, and realized the ground left from beneath my feet before closing my eyes. Praying you’d be there, or that, at least, the ground might be soft. No. This wasn’t blind, or surprising, I didn’t wake up and realize I hit the ground. Because I was looking down the whole time, with every purposeful step towards the edge, one after the other, knowing just how bad it hurt last time and choosing, to jump. I knew exactly what I was getting into, I knew how the ground tasted, knew the way passerby’s did just that and passed by, stepping over broken limbs, I knew the way I loved so hard I lost myself, and how a piece of me broke off the last time. I knew every way this could go bad, and I stared it in the face, I stared loving you, in the face. I didn’t close my eyes and fall, I looked at you and chose to jump, I chose to love you.

[bedlightwriting]

Love yourself but don’t be arrogant and prideful. Speak up but don’t be wrong. Be yourself but… not like that. Be positive, don’t dwell on the negative, but now you’re bragging. Not everyone has it as good as you. Express yourself, but not where we have to look at it. You should be able to express how you feel, but women are just so emotional, aren’t they? Express how you feel and now you’re weak too, and men are supposed to be strong. People change, but not you, never you, never anyone. It’s okay to not be okay, but nobody wants to hear it, you bring down the mood.

When does it end? The hypocrisy, the rules, the social ultimatums, we ask what you think but shun you because you were rude, you didn’t think we actually wanted the truth, did you?

I love him, she tells me, and I am silent. I’ve learned now not to speak what I actually think, because when I do she hates me. She hates that I think she’s wrong to be doing this so early. And I warned her, oh how I warned but it was like my words were drowned by the sweet whispers of his voice. The silence in my head was the only thing that heard me.

I love him and he loves me, and I trust him, she says, and it isn't a big deal. Why can’t you just support me? You’re my best friend aren’t you? Mary supports me, why are you so stuck-up that you can’t? Don’t you trust me? I’m more responsible than everyone else.

I don’t say anything. But I could scream it until my voice goes hoarse and my hands start to shake, because I love you, because you are my best friend, because I don’t want you to hurt yourself. Because I’m willing to let you know you’ve gone too far, but Mary won’t, and you know that. You say you hate people who lie, you cut them out like mold off cheese, clean and sharp, but you don’t want to hear the truth, either.

Fight after fight and you still hate me, you hate me because I challenged that you might be wrong, because I hurt your pride, because you know I don’t fight something like this unless It’s bone-deep. And you’re scared that I’m right, so you hate me, and we fight, and you try to change it because if you get me to admit that I’m wrong then you’ve won, your pride is safe and you have nothing to worry about. But that never happened. And I’m so scared that I’m right, that you’ll get hurt or ruin what you have left to live, and part of me thinks, or maybe knows that you are too, that’s why you hate it.

And now it’s not the same. It will never be the same. We aren’t two people talking about what ifs and dreaming of moving to a place far away from our troubles together, we aren’t people just offering solace to the other anymore. Now we’re two people, one who wants to talk about boys, relationships, how close you came to getting caught and what you did with him last night, and the other who wants to focus on anything but. And we respect each other's wishes, of course we do, but it will never be the same. We will never be the same, it’s change, and I am so scared that it’s not the good kind of change, either.

[bedlightwriting]

This is a side blog for all things writing, where you’ll find things like:

- vignettes

- poem sorta things

- random thoughts or things I like to think about

-inspirational stuff, probably

Mostly just a dump for all my emotional writing, started after a rough time with a friend of mine, lived through a break up and now it’s just a blog where I write out things that I’m thinking about or that are bugging me. There’s probably going to be other stuff too sometime, like some actual poems sometimes. Anyways, have fun!