is every heartbreak the same?
in the realm I inhabit, love is not tangible
no one has ever come back
they make their decision to leave me
and it is okay;
they have already found someone else
I am just filler
I am never enough
no one wants me enough
forty men and nothing substantial,
nothing real
it is not that I am searching for the real
though I do seek a person (?)
I remain alone with few good memories, ones which hurt
and are tainted by pain;
by anger.
Someone Please Stay?
“In me, too, many things have been destroyed that I thought were bound to last forever and new ones have formed that have given birth to new sorrows and joys which I could have not foreseen then, just as the old ones have become difficult for me to understand.”— Marcel Proust, In Search of Lost Time: Swann’s Way, 1913-27
(via nickkahler)
(via dieferal)
the gaps in my heart are finally closing
healing themselves
recovering,
from all the years I have spent breaking myself apart.
as I wake I no longer feel sadness
but instead the profound ability to exist,
as I am
and be okay.
“When I think of him, I want to open my legs.”— Anaïs Nin, Henry and June
(via fall1997)
i hope you find someone that matches your capacity to love
rebuilding the self
there is a whole in my heart left from all the men that have inhabited me
for them;
I have loved stronger than I have loved myself
I have emptied myself
become hollow
there is blood on my wrists from all the men that have touched me
you;
who have ripped the cloth from under my chest
torn the skin between my thighs
devoured the softness which surrounded me
there is pain
regret
loss & emptiness
though at the root of this pain there is me
and I;
I am better than the men who have broken me
bigger than the wholes which tear my body
stronger than the infliction of their pain
sweeter than their poisonous kiss
kinder - with more power to be found at the tips of my fingers
then in all the hands of the men who have touched me
