June 4, 2017

Young Love

"Screeching tires, a near miss. A horn blaring sharply into the night. I close my eyes. Here comes the flashbacks.

We were losing track of the days and nights, counting fireflies and waiting for the sun to come around . I was so addicted to you. I remember the exquisite fatigue as I fought off sleep for another hit, another line of conversation. We drove down freeways and winding roads in a sleepless stupor, the stereo blasting love songs that were a cheap imitation of what we felt. Sometimes I wish you would take us over the edge, and we would be forever young and crazy in love. Go slow around those curves. I only want you safe now. It doesn't matter if we're together or apart. I love you so much. I'll love you, right until the end."

I loved you once. I love you still. I love you forevermore.

I will never forgive myself. Neither I forgive this fate. I am a sinner.

by, Lang Leav.

March 16, 2016

Dear Love

Love, he has abandoned me,
do with me as you will.
Love, he left -- unceremoniously,
why must I love him still?

The best of me I gave to him,
the years, the days, the hours.
Precious little, in turn he'd given,
like dew to a wilting flower.

Love, he sheared away tenderly,
my beauty, my strength, my mind,
the gifts that were bestowed to me --
were swallowed in his pride.

Love, has he forgotten me?
Please tell me what you've heard,
I guard his memory jealously --
with him I'd place my worth.

--Lang Leav

March 9, 2016

Waiting

'I try to think of a word that is closest to love and the only thing that comes to mind is your name. I try to imagine what I would say if our paths ever crossed again but I keep drawing a blank.

I've forgotten what it was like to feel the sun on my skin without worrying that it could hurt me. I've stopped throwing myself from cliffs, with my arms in the air, waiting for the splash below.

Every day, l look in the mirror and I see more and more of my mother's face staring back at me. Every day I measure the weight of my past against the present and feel the drag of what could have been.

I find a photograph of you and wonder when I'll stop hoping. I stare at the clock, with its slow methodical hands and dread the day when I'll know it's too late.'


#np Say You Love Me by Jessie Ware