This is my notebook

I wish I could write again, but every time I try to it's non poetic. The words don't make sense and the lines seems broken. Every word hanging onto the next one, but the sentences are already falling.

There is nothing beautiful in a heartbreak until the heart heals. & that takes time they say, but it's been four months since I've heard your voice or seen your face and my heart still jumps when someone says your name. There is nothing beautiful in feeling so low that you think the earth speaks to you because the wind begins to cary you. Because you're just fine and I'm buried underneath your shoes surrounded all around.

Cameras

I saw a picture of you today.


You were standing right by me and we had smiles on our faces that convinced us of a little forever.

After that I saw another picture, and then another. 

I guess you really were my everything back then. You were my future and my present. You were my world and I was only your ocean. You were my Friday night and my Saturday mornings. You were my favorite sound and my most feared reality. 

You were more than one picture, you were 20. You were the moments where I couldn't help but smile because you were beside me with your honey brown eyes, and your straight smile.

In that moment you were there and you weren't going anywhere. Neither of us were thinking of an ending, we were thinking of the right now. Right then we were happy. We were exchanging kisses and hugs. We were holding hands while laughing in the car. We were talking about infinity without the commitment. 

We never talked about heartbreak or the what if's because I was too scared. You knew that, and suddenly you brought up all the what if's and the heart break. You brought up every question along the way you held in. 

You were confused while I was convinced. I was sure while you were wondering. I was happy while you were content. I was in love while you were still deciding. 

You're the pain to my happiness

I can always remember your anniversary. But it isn't the anniversary between two people who are in love. Yours anniversary is another year that you aren't here living. Another year you're not breathing in this smokey air.

You're not the only death I remember, but you are the only anniversary.

I have had people in my life pass away, friends that were "close." & as awful as this sounds I forget their yearly death mark. I always forget the exact date they stopped breathing. Your day is different. You day is on my day. Your death is mourned on the same day that my birth is celebrated.

& there is always a point in the day where I look into dad's eyes and see pain instead of happiness. You were part of his everything.

I was raised with you when I was little. I used to tell myself I hated you growing up. The words came up randomly when I got frustrated, and I'm sorry. Maybe you passed away on my birthday to teach me how to love or maybe how to forgive. Either way you taught me something.

& I thank you for that.

IOU

Today I thought about you, but that fact isn't any different from yesterday and it won't be any different from tomorrow. But today I saw someone you knew in high school. I started to imagine a life with him. He was your same height and had blue eyes. He was your opposite. You were the color black and he was white. I started to imagine kissing him, and I realized I can see myself with someone else.

But every imagined forehead kiss my eyes would flinch. I compared them to yours. I imagined him squeezing me while he gave me a hug, and again I thought of you. I can find someone else bub, but the truth is I don't want to. I want your hands squeezing mine when we know we shouldn't be laughing. I want your dumb jokes when I am pissed off. I want your forehead kisses and your hugs forever.

Hello mister please to meet ya

I want to write you a love letter or a love story where the characters would be us, but instead I'll write you a letter that only reads sadness between the lines. I'll write you my goodbye.


Hey Bubby,



I want you to know I wish you the best, and I hope you get the wife you've always dreamed of. I hope you get to name your son Kyro and your daughter Ana. I want you to hear the words "I love you" everyday for eternity, and maybe even the words "te quiero" every morning. I hope you wake up with a smile on your face and not a knife in your back.


Bryce I hope you know you're going to be a great dad. Teach your kids how to wrestle (and how to twist them like a pretzel.) Remember to teach them to rinse their dishes after they eat because "that just will not do" otherwise.


Let them know about that amazing stat girl you had your senior year, and how her name was Emma. Tell them how you fell in love with her and how you said all the right things at all the wrong times.


I hope you still think about me, because I do. I hope you wonder how I'm doing, and I hope you realize that the answer isn't all that great lately. I hope you miss my body next to yours, and I hope you miss all the random smiles I would get on our car rides.


I just want you to know I wish you the best. I want you to know I smile when I look up at the sky and think of you. I was always so rarrr and you managed to look at me straight in the eyes with the words I love you leaving your mouth.


I love you.


Love,
Emmita

XOXO

I keep reading about the taste that his lips give her and I can't remember tasting your lips. But I can remember the feeling of your hands pressed against my skin when your lips finally intertwined with mine.

Poetry ♻︎ Broken Hearts

You would think that I would be able to write again with a broken heart, but even poetry is non exist. Lately all I do is lie to myself that I'm okay. I keep lying. You keep leaving.
I keep saying the words I love you as if I am going to get a reply, but you and I both know that you won't say it back. So I'll just keep whispering the words "I love you."

      At least for another 9 months because to you I don't exist and to me you are only a memory I keep trying to relive and visit.


I still love you though. I still think you are perfect for me. I still picture a future with you and little kids of our own. I still convince myself that this pain is necessary because most say that the heart breaks with a beautiful kind of pain, but this time there is nothing beautiful about it. This time is the second.
And the second time hurts worse than the first.
The last kiss might actually be the last, and more time is needed in allowing the heart to heal.


& today is only the 3rd day that I haven't had you, that you haven't been mine. I haven't been able to hug or kiss you. We haven't talked and I think I am starting to go crazy. Every day I will randomly picture your smile and imagine your forehead kisses and this "beautiful" kind of pain is the ugliest pain there ever was and ever will be. What is beautiful about being second when everyone is screaming that I should be first? I tell myself second isn't that bad. Second is only one away from first. At least I wasn't third or fourth because that's when I would start to wonder, but I guess I have already started to wonder.

I guess I've already started to wonder if you're worth it because everyone keeps telling me you're not.