poemsporn_“Someone once asked me how i knew when i was completely over you.
One, when i stopped searching the emptiness for a whiff of your cologne, or a hand to hold. Instead, i filled the gaps with laughter.
Two, when i bandaged up my exit wounds and held doors open for strangers who’d enter by night and leave by day. I no longer fear the day someone might walk out on me.
Three, when my insides no longer floated in pools of antidepressants and sleeping pills.
Four, when i sung in the showers and danced in the rain, again. You never liked me to do that, but you never liked me, anyway.
Five, when i breathed a little more life into myself each time i wrote about you. My words no longer formed the shape of the soft curve of your back.
Six, when i found old photographs but my heart didn’t ache, or tire, or break.
Seven, when hearing your voice for the first time in eleven months didn’t leave me sprawled on the floor, sobbing, over phone calls that ran long into nights.
Eight, when you kissed that girl and i cheered along with the crowd.
Nine, when you looked at me and i looked right back. Unfaltering.
Ten, when i think about that time you called me ‘unlovable’, and told me to stop loving you like it was a crime, i laugh, because i barely remember the warmth of your touch.
Eleven, when someone who felt so much like home, ends up feeling like a graveyard.”
—i replied, “it was when i felt him slip away from the crevices of my mind.“ (via inkedwrsts)
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