Delilah's Memoirs

I swore to myself that she was the last person I’d let in my heart that way. That I wouldn’t let anyone make me feel that way, and if I ever felt that I was even a tiny bit close to falling for someone I would get up and leave without having second thoughts. Since she left, I promised myself that no one would ever make me feel the unbearable pain I felt when I couldn’t be with her anymore. That feeling that my life was crashing down, that the world had no color anymore, that the walls of my room crushed me, that feeling in my stomach, I could have sworn I was sick or something because my body hurt, that feeling of emptiness and desperation, of disbelief because nothing made sense without her… I promised I was never gonna let that happen anymore, that I would be strong enough to know when to walk away… that I would think with my head and never again with my heart… but I was too weak, or maybe too drawn to her, I kept going back, I knew I was falling, but just when I said to myself: it’s time to go, she entered the room, her hair moving with the wind rhythmically, walking towards me, and just when she was two inches away she touched my face and kissed me softly, she put our favorite song and I knew, I knew that no matter what I had ever decided, I couldn’t go now, I was already in too deep, I was already head over feet over her, out of my head, crazy stupidly in love. And it was all perfect and beautiful… until she left… just like everything, it always ends…  

Baby this fever has got me hallucinating, I swear I saw you by my side but I looked again and it was empty. Baby make me ill, invade me. Your ghost has been on my passenger seat way too long. But please don’t disappear… you’ve made me crazy, but I love this kind of crazy. Baby your face is on the mirror giving me kisses on my back but you’re not really there. Oh I don’t care if you’re the past, I don’t care if you’re a ghost… if you don’t exist, I’ll invent you, your silhouette and the way it fit perfectly with mine. Make me drunk with your kisses, drug me, take me. Maybe I’m going mad but it’s all so unreal and real at the same time. I miss you, every inch of your body, every line of your smile, every wrinkle in your eyes, everything… baby this fever has got me hallucinating… hallucinating with every part of you. 

He stared at me and said: you’re not talking to me because you’re here with someone else. i got up my chair and went outside to have a smoke. It was true I think. Yes, it was very true. My legs started shaking a bit but I stood up to him and I didn’t let him kill me again. But you never get out of his hands alive, out of his sight alive. He hated the idea of me going on dates or being with someone else, I guess I was always like a lifeless soul-less pale doll he had to own, to leave me to rot in his room but always in his room. I guess some things are never really over. I guess some people have a certain chemistry that just sparks and no matter where you go it holds you by your wrist and pushes you towards that person. It wasn’t him, it wasn’t me either, it was the universe working its magic. But the magic in my heart is gone, dead. The sparks we had are burned out. We didn’t spend the night together that night, and any other night since. We will probably never cross paths again. I refuse to be some toy, some figment, some object you desire to have with you always even though you never even look at it. He stared at me in the distance and I walked away forever.

poemsofthesoul:

Ghosts live on my lips

Where lovers’ tongues

Used to twist and kiss

Then leave.

And they haunt me,

Echoing in every

Lovely moment.

The gone-by memories

Of despise.  

I got fed up

With those lies.

But when you kiss me

Slow and gentle

I feel myself

Leaving traces of my ghosts

Among these kisses,

As the things I say

Have all been said before

And these ghost kisses…

I’m sure, they know.

Thinking about the messes we make and people who clean after us, the messes we clean for others and the messes we leave behind to rot

Thinking about the ghosts who haunt us at night, picking at us, robbing us of our sleep, reminding us of every mistake, every regret, every monster we have in us

Thinking of lost loves and why we let them die in the first place, why we lost sight of them somewhere along the way, letting them us escape right through our fingers

Thinking of solitude and loneliness, of the sinking feeling we get when the whole world turns black and empty and you realize that you’re utterly alone, and when you look at the mirror you have no escape from who you are, this is what you’ve become

Thinking of the pictures we took and the smiles she gave me and the tear stains she left on my heart when I realized she was gone 

Thinking of u-turns and sidewalks, and people who walk and walk with no direction at all

Thinking of poets and garbage and beauty and rotten spaces and art and ugliness and the thin line between them all

Thinking of secrets we never tell a soul, not even our shadow, secrets who we will take solemnly to our graves, of words we will never let out, words that will die the moment our lives end

Thinking of paths and how lost I got along the way and how hard it is to find the path I want to walk in… 

Most people love us once they get to know us , it takes time and effort but they finally love us. But some people, and this is rare, love us before they knew us and after they know our darkest thoughts and ugly secrets, they still love us, even if they have no reason to, they just do, and they will love us forever, no matter what. I should be so lucky… 

clairejohnsen:

“As the electric went out,
and the covers opened up;
the candles wouldn’t light,
but it’s not like we tried.
Our hearts beat
and our minds raced;
the sound of Music
turned into the
sound of warm breath
and the feel of fingers.
We traced our bodies
and kissed our lips.
We fell to pieces
with no intentions of
being put back
together.”

likethesun:

Life really isn’t as defined as people think it is… I mean all of these rules and expectations that most people feel they have to abide by are all created out of thin air. Of course it takes effort to nourish our lives, but life doesn’t always have to be so serious all the time. It’s here for us to enjoy and to experience and to learn and to be happy!

Maybe my thoughts are writing themselves away as I run out of ways of explaining the unexplainable. Maybe I’m just tired of the same chain, of the circles I keep walking around on. The same old circles that always bring me back to the same place, the same bed. And I keep trying to revive old ghosts only to find out they are more more dead every time I come around. I ran out of excuses and lies to tell myself. I ran out of things to give her cause I had given her everything. Even the last drops of love I had so religiously tried to save ended up spilled on the bedroom door. All gone. And what was left was something so huge and vast , so sinked and dark… something called truth.