Image from Tumblr

1.34

Tu não és uma chávena de chá quente para a minha alma fria numa noite pálida de inverno. 
Não carregas a tristeza de dez mundos no olhar, não me tentas oferecer o teu coração de papelão moldado às mãos da vida, embrulhado em algodão doce. 

Não me dóis.

Tu és a adrenalina. És o querer e não poder. És o saber que está errado e mesmo assim gostar.
És o quase. Quase tudo, quase nada, quase meu. És o antónimo. A droga.
Toda e cada célula no meu corpo me diz para parar. E eu repulso-me com essa ideia, recuso-me.

A tua simples existência é-me tóxica, e eu sei que não me faz bem, mas pareço gostar. Vou-me deixando ficar.
Algo em ti é extremamente viciante, e eu poderia, com prazer, sofrer uma overdose de ti, e é provável que estejamos a enveredar por um caminho auto destrutivo, mas eu não me consigo importar.

Não me dóis. Mas se calhar matas.

the problem with time, is that it runs out.

the problem with hearts, is that they don't understand that.

5.04 a.m

Last night I wrote you a note
as I painted a beautiful work of art
on my face
my running mascara was the ink
and my pale face was the canvas
and it said that even though
I wanted us to fall in love, I knew
love wouldn't fall for us.

Then I laid in bed,
and thought of you,
and your broken soul
and sad eyes
and I borrowed a little bit
of your sadness and
embraced it for a whole night. 

By the morning,
I thought my wounds would be
turned into scars
and my heart would be fixed
but I was wrong.

And later, I found out that
you're not that sad anymore
or maybe you've just become
too good at hiding it,
and you have actually
found something good
in your life to hold on to.

And then it hit me
that all the sadness that I borrowed
from you
was now entirely mine to keep
because there was no
room for it in your life
anymore.

And I realised that your
promises
are as broken
as you are,
and it upsets me
but I still care.
and you fooled me
but I still care.
and you hurt me
but I still care. 

But darling you should know
that hurt will eventually
turn into anger,
that will turn into sadness,
that will turn into indifference.

And I'm okay with that
because I'm a mess
and I can be so confusing,
and complicated and twisted
that I'm mad at you
for doing exactly
what I asked you to
do.