@naivemoon

all the love letters i never sent:

Joined March 2013
  • Tweets16.9K
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  • Followers24.8K
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Replying to @naivemoon
i saw you come in a dream and spent the entire next day in a daydream about july
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i don’t know where you are. strangers backs look like you in the grocery store. then again, everything looks like you these days. i want to send you article links and memes. you sleep next to me at night, while i write letters begging for You back.
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google searches lately: how to stop being so hard on the people i love most. how to be softer. is there a way out. opisthoteuthis californiana. [your name] tinder. can mail polish seep into your fingers.
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when were you going to tell me how loud things have gotten in your head?
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somedays i sit here and wish it all away. to start fresh. sometimes i remember i can. rarely, i do
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it should be illegal to have the amount of Realizations I’ve had this year
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old friends are posting about having babies and getting married. im just happy to be getting out of bed, that my clothes are put away, that i smell like soap, that my ceilings are high enough
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someone asked why i still love you and i said how can you still sing songs you haven't heard in years
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Later often becomes never.
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this is my homemade Hell
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need to write a poem called Homemade Hell.
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Replying to @naivemoon
we watched the spot fires in the desert. sometimes we drove all night, and I'd wake up in another place. downtown lights blur in the greasy window. the road has arms, gentle, rocking me, while my parents talked in the front.
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im over being anything but soft. i miss you. i love you. you hurt me. that broke me. you don’t deserve this. i don’t deserve that. i can’t finish a lot of the things i desperately need to say because they hurt so badly. im so soft for you.
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dissossociation is sitting in the backseat of a car when you’re sixteen screaming to a song with friends and then suddenly opening your eyes to the apartment you live in at twenty-two
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more replies
laying on the couch in the living room with your parents watching sitcoms and doing multiplication practice during the commercial, awaking to afternoon walks after working from home for eight hours.
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hiding in the closet at 9, reading charlottes web until you couldn’t keep your eyes open. flying forward to carving out time in the day to sink your teeth deeper into your fantasy novel at twenty-three. time is not always a thief.
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same old summer nostalgia washing over me this morning. it didn’t even provide a sweet dream of you, but a constant ringing in my chest knowing i had something worth wishing to recreate.
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and because it’s very unfair to have had something i was never even able to hold
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poetry left in the sun to yellow
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i can feel myself missing you and you’re not even gone
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i want to love you and exist in the world at the same time why does that not feel possible
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You living paycheck to paycheck or one emergency away from struggling just like the rest of us and you MAD that other ppl in other industries are demanding better rights and pay???
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oh, there you go again talking in my sleep again
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what does it mean that i still can’t write anything about you. what does it mean when my hands reach for every pen just to write about something else.
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