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there's something about the idea of sitting down with him and a glass of red wine that he cherishes so much that really appeals to you, something about listening to call it fate call it karma and joking about the irrelevancy of individual objects in this mass world that makes you want to message him immediately

the truth is, you need him because you need someone to save you when you have realised at about 3 am on your way to see him this morning that you are no longer a person to rely on to be there for you emotionally - you're your own bad influence, you're your own a.m. thoughts and bad decisions

the truth is, you wish you were still drunk enough to tell him that he should date you instead; you wish you were drunk enough to kiss him, drunk enough to play with his tie when he kept fidgeting with it, drunk enough to tell him that he's full of **** and you love it

you wish you were sober enough to forget about everything that has happened and get off that feeling knowing somebody told you that you'd be in their head, because your situations have never been perfect and this hurricane is making its way towards your heart faster than you anticipated and this time you don't want to drown in the raindrops of lost desire and empty words

there's something there, something about the two silver rings, one on each hand; something about the way his hair slicks back, about how he wears his glasses and how excited he gets to show you what he can play on piano; there's something there about the touch, about the electrifying feeling of holding his tired hands, and about the way you can tease him and he still takes it, about the way he assumes things but you do too and then you both admit your faults, about the way he tells you to smile more because a smile suits you and that thinking too much can be a serial killer

there's something there, but it's too far away to be understood - too far away to be felt, too far away to be loved

your drunken mind assumes it's utopia, but your sober mind concludes it's hell
maybe it's because it's 3am and maybe it's because he hasn't truly been with me when beside me in over a month but the more i look at him now the more i realise it's painstakingly easy for him to let go and it's embarrassingly difficult for me to do the same

when i grew up i was taught that love would walk into your life with a smile like no other; i was not taught love would be etched in cigarette butts smoked in earnest after sleepless nights and onto early mornings; i was not taught love would be sprinkled in every glass of red wine i have with the name chianti and the price £6.99 almost haunting every sip i take

the truth is, even when he's not near me i try in earnest to find him - i try to taste him long after he's gone until my mouth goes numb and my tastebuds cannot tell apart chocolate from meat, i try to find the remnants of his cologne in my bedsheets even though it's been a month since he's slept here and i've washed my sheets already because maybe, maybe there's still a chance he'll be there, i try to touch him but no longer on purpose - accidental, timid touches that have my veins screaming to seep out of my arm and grab him while they can because they need more oxygen and he was the only source of clear thinking i had for a long time

the truth is no matter how many times i wear my lucky socks, no matter how many times i buy my favourite shampoo, no matter how many bottles of wine i drink, no matter how many text messages i send, it won't make him come back, because wearing his favourite perfume doesn't change anything but the desire in his eyes and like a flame it burns bright and suddenly all within a matter of hours it stops shining altogether

call it naive, call it pathetic, call it lonely call it lost call it depressed call it wrong call it meaningless pointless tragic sad ignorant poisonous stupid, but my heart trudges forward, and i know at 03:48am that no matter how much i try, i won't be able to stop it until it has taken all the roads leading up to him

why?

so it can crash and die all over again
The hardest thing about forgetting a person
Is remembering their phone number.
The second hardest thing about forgetting a person
Is remembering their address.
The third hardest thing about forgetting a person
Is realising they never leave your dreams.
The fourth hardest thing about forgetting a person
Is you never really want to.


-----------------------------------------------------------­---------------------------------------
Maybe I don't want to forget you yet
So I let you live on in my dreams
Picking at me with your plot and schemes
Slowly I realise, your face never gets distorted
And I hold you in my memory in hopes they become contorted
But I sit here missing your presence
Just so my conscience sits a little pleasant.

You are immortalised
In my memory
And my deepest dreams.
 Apr 2016 Bek Blanchard
oakley
why do you wait until i've fallen
to try to hold me up?
why to you wait until i'm broken
to try to hold me together?
why do you only meet my eyes
when they're swollen and red?
is that when i'm worth noticing,
when my heart is all but dead?
I once had a dream that I was in a large field. I was surrounded by Tulips and Daffodils. I tried to move my arms and legs but I had none that I could see. I could only look out over the field in the direction of the sun, slightly turned up to feel it's warmth. I began to contemplate what I had become, then I felt my petals and stems and roots going into the earth. At once an image of myself appeared. I had become a sunflower you see. With a wide Iris and petals of gold. I sat and followed the sun for hours untold. I was content with the warmth of it's rays. I was happy to spend my time there, many a lazy day. As time passed, I watched the others flowers fade, the sun began to set sooner each day. Then birds began to light on me and peck at my Iris. I was upset at first, but then I began to see, they simply wanted to eat out my seed. So one by one my seed went away, until there were none left in me. I awoke suddenly and thought about my dream. I imagined what I might find the next time I sleep. Perhaps one flower has become many and are in many far flung fields, between the Tulips and the Daffodils. I will wait patently until I sleep again, and wake as many sunflowers.
I can't break down, I must ignore you.
I can't break down.

If you text I'll have no choice but to not reply no matter How much It kills me inside.

I am a hungry shark...
you are alone in the dark...
No more waiting
for your text
For your Call
im going to live my life now,
soon my memories of you will fade,  I have to get over you,
Get over you..
Get over you..
Get.. Over..
this curse of true beauty I see in you.
Vague blows to my mind
Memories make me unkind
Bitter and shallow to the core
All this laying in bed has made me sore

shameless ***
With strangers just met
fulling a void just isn't the same
Without our conversations to keep me sane.

Struggling with hello
Picture you wearing those stilettos
Holding the pillow at night
Isnt you gripping me tight

a wolf in sheeps clothing
Turns into a sheep with self loathing
wolf inside frightened to see light
Future Looking dim and bleak, losing sight.
when it hit you home.

you’re eyes closed at shutter speeds,
when the heart sinks,
or sank.
and each blink individually,
starts to take a second of your life from me,
frivolously.
and your mind focuses,
but like a broken lens,
you nictate, nictate,
like you’re stuck on repeat.
and you dictate the aftermath,
like you have admitted defeat.
as cynosure slips from your fingertips.
the closure in the locus.
you spoke to me in hindsight,
and you spared me in the moment.
still glowing, albeit, caliginously.
you described the bright lights in defiance,
lying sweetly,
in a conversation, in constellations,
i’ll remember you in full bloom;
in keepsakes;
we wished to the the stars aligned,
shining flowers for you in the nights sky.
whilst you fought for your life, in kind.
high as a kite, twinkle in your eye,
as you guide your life
away.
still in spite,
of your perdition,
the latest addition of you.
when i see you in ruin.
through the body as it mortifies,
and your fortified smile,
tortured denial,
a defiant forcefield,
shatters and eviscerate,
and as you evaporate;
i see your lips crack through dryness,
my queen and highness;
i’ve not seen you laugh for a while.
and as I see time pass,
from you astute,
a calmness in your eyes grew,
and now when you belly laugh,
you gasp for air,
it’s as if,
not much is inside there.
as you stutter and stammer,
judgement impaired,
scared.
and yellow coloured,
tinged skin,
bed ridden
in affliction,
to me,
to you.
as it dawned on me
and then it dawned on you.
when it finally hit you home,
nothing left but skin and bones,
the final petal of a rose,
fell.



**I still miss you.
I miss you still.
I always have,
always will.
 Apr 2016 Bek Blanchard
AK93
**** me now
Or do it later
Procrastinate a while
I won't mind
I'll eat dirt
When it is served
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