Every poem, story, and thought is based on my life. 100% true, and 100% mine. Welcome to my diary.

You can’t just let something go and expect it to come back to you.
People aren’t always boomerangs.
People are balloons, they fly off into the atmosphere and you have to watch them leave, and sometimes no matter how hard you jump, no matter how far you stretch your arms out, they’ll always be out of your reach.

—It’s just something you have to remember when you set someone free

Anonymous asked: You could be my muse

Write about me.

I imagine the scars on your knuckles when they were freshly split open, a new hole in your bedroom wall, a new ‘fuck you’ to your step mom and your dead beat dad,
I imagine how badly you must have been hurting,
I wish I could save you but all I can do is hold your damaged hands in mine and tell you it’s going to be okay,
You won’t believe me anyway.

Your bedroom with the cinnamon candles and soft sheets and squeaky ceiling fan felt like home that spring, we would hold hands and watch movies and kiss, lips burning, tongues searching until early morning.

Today I woke up at 8 and didn’t think about you until 8:22, maybe I’m getting better.

Anonymous asked: prompt: the hugest cock you've had

Six word story:
I don’t think that will fit…

We could have weathered that storm; I know it.
We could have made it, you and me. We could have been the lucky ones.
If only we hadn’t been so scared, so young.
We could have been forever.

He’s half drunk and on his fourth cigarette I think he’s just looking for something to do with his hands because he can’t touch her anymore and this party is too crowded for that anyways but he likes how the music feels and he might crash the car if he got behind the wheel so he stays. She notices that it’s the first time that he stays, she walks away.

You’re just a boy and I’m just broken and I’m not sure what I expected out of you but I thought maybe you’d be stronger than me, but you’re the one who got scared and distant and insecure, and maybe it’s because I never told you that I have dreams of us being together 50 years from now laughing about some silly tv-movie and drinking bud light and holding hands like we do, I never told you I can see a future with you.

—So I guess it’s all my fault

Forgetting the number of times I fell asleep in your arms is one thing,
but forgetting how it felt, hot breath against my neck, gentle rise and fall of your chest, that seems fucking impossible.

—I’m not over you