18.O7.1O actions speak volumes. words mean nothing when there is concrete evidence that represents truth outside what has been said. what's demonstrated becomes more believable than the shit that runs rampant from your lips and puddles at my feet in piles of sewage. i wallow in it searching for truth that neeedle in this haystack of lies and as i hunt, i cry because the pain has passed unbearable and has receded into a dull ache that i never thought i would have to deal with i'm coping with the constant stab of missing you the relentless jab of doubting you the unmistakable pressure of distrust. we don't talk and i hate this what is this relationship? you are selfish and i have realized that there are truth in those words that you've constantly spoken. how can i promise to always be yours if you show no interest in me if you show no inkling that you care. your actions speak louder than your words and i am drifting away against my own will my resolve for you is weakening and the rational part of my brain is winning the battle of you. my mind, my heart even, is chosing against you wholeheartedly. these pieces aren't mending because you constantly step on them again and i don't think you deserve my heart once i've repaired it you've done nothing to prove to me that you're different. you will always be you and you will always break my heart. i don't think i can do this. 16.O7.1O i've forgiven but it's much to hard to forget as visions of your tiny dancer twirl through my head as you reach for her hand... and she pirouettes away taking the heart you promised me with her. how could you how dare you make this drastic change and expect nothing to change. how many times will i allow you to break my heart. "watch out for heartbreakers." 13.O7.1O i am radio seeking the station that plays your love 24/7 but all i find is static &nd mixed messages i can't tune in properly ...you won't let me i'll take the white noise for now if that means i'll be allowed to listen permanently. ♥ |
these are. . . mostly remnants of my heartbreak. . . i yearn for the day that i can browse my blog without the urge to cry. . . . . . "now, keep in mind that i'm an artist & i'm sensitive about my shit." -Erykah Badu back in time. •October 2008 •November 2008 •December 2008 •January 2009 •February 2009 •March 2009 •April 2009 •May 2009 •July 2009 •September 2009 •October 2009 •November 2009 •December 2009 •January 2010 •February 2010 •March 2010 •April 2010 •June 2010 •July 2010 •August 2010 •September 2010 •October 2010 •January 2011 •May 2011 •June 2011 •August 2011 •December 2011 •January 2012 •March 2012 |