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Mel Little Oct 2015
I still see your face in my dreams.

Is this what loss actually feels like? The way my whole body aches as these days work their way forward, as my brain refuses to think of you until the dark hours of the night when I can't think of literally anything else.

I love you
                                                             it's over
I need you
                                 I can't do this anymore

Back and forth back and forth
I am so empty without your hands holding my flyaway pieces together

I don't know why I wasn't good enough.
Mel Little Oct 2015
Dear 17 year old me,

You'll fall in love with a boy this year that will bring you as much happiness as pain.
You'll fall in love with his eyes, and the dimples in his smile,
And dear girl you will cry when the loneliness of his departure makes the innermost of you empty and aching.

I would tell you to run now, that when your friend tries to give you his phone number, to turn her down.

But in this pain, five years later, five years of the highest highs and the lowest lows, as I ache from the innermost of me and feel empty, in this pain I tell you do not run.

Without him, you will not have a million poems, you will not have some of the best nights of your life. You will not sleeplessly wonder what you've done wrong, or sleepily whisper your "I love yous" into his ear.

And what is love without heartbreak?
What would I be without him?

Humor me, little past self. Fall in love with him. Write poems about his eyes, write letters to him with no end. Love him. Lose him. Fight him. Love him again.

And then come back as me, twice as strong and twice as weary.

You won't regret it.

Love, you at 21.
I frequently write letters to myself, but this isn't the usual style.
Mel Little Oct 2015
The stars are where I renew my faith, when the clouds let me see them.

Love in the stars, the constellations connecting in eerie ways, telling stories that I've long since forgotten I've heard.

Love in the way you once kissed me, but we were clouded over; our story one that people will forget was ever spoken.

But the stars stay, even under the clouds, and my love will stay, but someday my story will be spun with someone else's name.

And we will become a forgotten constellation, a once was, never to be again.
This kinda *****, but oh well.
Mel Little Oct 2015
I write when I am sad, when I am angry, when I am happy, when I am lost

It is easier when people critique my writing than when people trivialize my feelings
Mel Little Oct 2015
No one could ever know just how I'm falling apart,
Slowly sinking, swiftly sinning
Dug myself a new hole today, six feet under doesn't seem so deep after consideration
If I hold myself together with duct tape and glue, another boy's arms, another goodnight kiss from another stranger
Does that make me stronger or just stupid?
Whatever's waiting for me,
that **** better hurry up
I'll be too far gone
For even fate
to find
me
Mel Little Sep 2015
I would sing praises of you to the world...
if only you would remove
your hand from
my mouth
Mel Little Sep 2015
I could never know just how dangerous being a lamb is until I fell for the lion.
He could easily snap me in half, mentally, emotionally.
He is all predator, cool calm and collected.
All harsh lines and sharp tongue
All confidence and cockiness
But the way he moves, so beautifully
It breaks my heart.
And I am the sick ******* that can't bear to let go,
I would run if I wasn't so busy being caught up in him
So busy wanting to put him back together
Because he wasn't always a lion, wasn't always this.
He was a cub once, a smaller version of himself now
Lesser and more
But I will fall asleep tonight thinking of his roar
And what it does to my heart
Not afraid, but utterly transfixed
Stupid, stupid lamb
For falling in love with the lion.
The quote that is the title was written by Stephenie Meyer ten years ago. The poem however, is mine
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