I am once again yearning. For long brown hair to brush gently against my chest. For long days with the lights off. For soft, tall beds. For crying babies, and long-lasting loves. For heart-shaped sunglasses,

I punish myself more than I play the records hanging on my wall. And that's a lot. I pretend to read a book for a month, but then I get bored and I don't tell anyone that I stopped. I take the back roads

IS IT SO WRONG TO WANT TO START AGAIN? What happens if I never learn to let it go? What happens if I'm angry about everything for the rest of my life? My mother once told me that ignoring my problems was

Source I was searching for topics to write about. Then this theme just popped out of nowhere and thanks to BDC shorts. All humans carry a sense of regret about something, whether it is temporary or lifelong.

I planted a bed of roses because I remembered one time you said that they were your favourite. And now when I crack my knuckles, I remember all of the times I begged you not to. And no matter how many

And they told me I shouldn't let fear control my life, but I always was just a scared little kid at heart. And walking this earth was always a recipe for disaster for someone with a heart as big as mine.

They call it strange behaviour. The way I pull my hair between my trembling fingers and place it behind my ears. The trembling in my voice when I say something out loud in front of other people, and the

I ask everyone if they're hurting too; not out loud, but I know a yes when I see it. I used to hoard my wounds and say I needed to keep them to heal. I didn't hear how it sounded. All of the rooms in my

If I keep consuming content from over 10 years ago, I'll be dead before I'm 30. I can guarantee it. It's unhealthy to relive the past like that. Like it's absolutely mandatory. Because what good does a

Drunk on kitten love, I clean the kitchen on Fridays. It's an act of charity, doing what's expected of me. Wiping down the countertops, I get locked in on the walls of the kitchen. I stare at the blue

The sun has set on the first day of January. It's colder inside than out and soundscapes on T.V are the only thing bringing me peace anymore. My breathing has slowed somehow, (I swear, It never does this)

And maybe I don't love you anymore, at least not in the same capacity I did before. But that doesn't mean there wasn't a time when I loved you more than the back of my own hands. A time when I loved you

The red door, red truck, red and white soccer ball out in the yard-and these old, red cowgirl boots. God-have they seen some things. They used to have a sparkle to them, tacky glitter. But now they've

If I were to be something between a woman, and not, what would that make me...? It's quite the convoluted question, as I can be anything I set my mind to. But, there are curves on my hips, and roses on

Sometimes this all gets too heavy for me to carry. My legs drag Until I swear they're going to give. But usually, they don't. Usually, I keep going until can find a safe place to rest. But my rest is starting

Go, meet your stars. I'll watch from here You're returning to the city with your half-loaded luggage to see about friends and colleagues and go for drinks and music. Revel is not a bad place to dance And

January bubbles up like my champagne glass: filled to the brim. I am tiptoeing downstairs, waiting for midnight to strike in another time zone. It's the beginning of the end. The month comes full circle

Blink once for hello twice for help me/ blink twice for I'm hurting, three times for my heart is singing/ blink once for fuck off. Twice for fuck me/ blink as fast as you can, as many times as you can

A long time ago, I saw a girl with grey hair somewhere on Facebook and I think I had a crush on her hair. So I added that grey hair here. Though it's not perfect, but I tried perfectly. I drew this one

A red light pierces the blackness from the corner of the room-blinking at me. I hear someone's footsteps- these footsteps are a song I can't get out of my head. I hear them walking up the stairs at home,