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An Open Letter to an Ex Friend

Dear you,

A friend breaking your heart always hurts more than a lover doing so. 00d3cff43aa61afd3c3471ec86bea04a

I wore black today. I thought wearing black would be appropriate as I was mourning the death of our friendship. Black dress, black ribbon, black shoes, even black underwear. I removed my sparkly earrings and wore a black necklace instead, with the word ‘Karma’ hanging from its center. It burned like a hot blade against my skin. I refilled the vodka flask that I spent the night before emptying, with black
coffee instead. I had to stay awake for the funeral. I had to “mourn my loss.”  But that’s when it hit me. That’s when I realised that it wasn’t a loss. You see, death usually implies something that was taken from you unwillingly. Someone taking something from you without there being much of a choice.

You had a choice. You had a fucking choice. But you decided to kill our friendship anyway, because it meant nothing to you. It was a murder. Cold blooded, blue murder.

I should have worn red instead. I should have worn my set of white pearls and donned my darkest shade of red lipstick. I should have laughed and clawed at your corpse. I should have thanked you for showing me that we were never friends to begin with.Trust and loyalty meant nothing to you. You were right when you said “I’m not like  the others”. You are far worse. The others never had the heart to do what you did. The others cared. The others were human. You were different. You were the worst. I only wish I had known sooner.

I hope one day, karma finds home in your arms. I hope one day, karma scratches its name in to your skin. And I hope you remember forever how it feels, to trust someone, only to find out that they threw everything away with just a snap of their fingers, without a care in the world. As if you meant nothing.

Dear you, this is the end. I would ask you to Rest in Peace, but I’d be lying.

 

Yours truly,

Painted Shadow

 

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Big girls don’t cry.

Falling in love with you was like skinny dipping in winter

Falling in love with you was like

Benjamin Franklin

standing in the pouring rain

holding the key high enough

hoping to feel some sort of spark

some sort of electricity.

It was reckless

It was a suicide attempt.

Falling in love with you

was the only thing I felt good at.

 

– excerpts from a book I’ll never write.

 

Yours truly,

Painted Shadow

 

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Come Pick Me Up.

One night I will wake up just before the clock strikes 3 am

I will roll over and pull my blanket around me;

As I roll over I will find the warm wall your body built

between me and the edge of the bed.

One day when I wake up at 3 am,

I won’t have my thoughts keeping me awake

instead the drumming of your heart

will sing me a sweet lullaby

until I drift back to sleep.

One day when I wake up at 3 am,

it won’t be because the monsters under my bed

are talking loudly, but instead,

it might be because your snoring in my ear stirred me awake

or you pulled the blanket all the way to your side

or just because.

One day when I wake up at 3 am,

I won’t be searching for my phone to text you about the dream I just had

instead, I’ll wake you, or try to at least, and tell you about it.

One day.

One can hope, that One day.

 

Yours truly,

Painted Shadow

 

 

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Something about you.

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I counted his birthmarks against the dawn of a new day;
Pointing fingers at us
And whispering through the curtain
That were thoughtfully closed as we got in that morning
Or was it late night?
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I traced his birthmarks with the tip of my index fingers
Slowly and gently
His body rose and fell in a rhythmic dance
My eyes began to study these movements
Memorising it as best as I could.
I drew a map from point A to point B
And then point B to C and back again to A.
Gazing at my new discovery at the break of light
I realised I wanted to be an astronomer
I wanted to study the galaxies between your shoulder blades
And take pictures of the gentle ragged outline of your spine,
Creating craters of lust and muscle.
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I kissed each birthmark.
Slowly.
Softly.
Seductively
One. Kiss.
Two. Kiss.
Three. Kiss.
He stirred awake and turned around to face me
Eyes still closed, he let out a soft murmur
And fell right back asleep.
I will have to star gaze another night.

 

Yours truly,
Painted Shadow
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I’ll keep wondering.

I often wondered why I couldn’t write about you.

I often day dreamed about your warm breath against my neck,

or the sound of my name (or versions of it) rolling off your tongue,

But I could never quite figure out why I couldn’t write about you.

I couldn’t turn you in to metaphors and exaggeration.

I couldn’t even rhyme your name.

Heck, I couldn’t even figure out the rhythm of your beating heart!

You’d think that after six months I’d have figured it out,

But here I am, still wondering.

Maybe, just maybe;

You are worth more than a clever metaphor and rhyme.

Maybe, just maybe;

You mean more to me than just a poem.

Maybe, just maybe;

I can’t turn you in to poetry, because you’re not a figment of my over active imagination.

Maybe, just maybe,

You’re real.

 

 

Yours truly,

Painted Shadow

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I Choose You.

Your voice vibrated against my skin.

Each molecule thudding and bursting against themselves creating a mild havoc within the fibre that held the parts of me together. They ran fast through my fingers, making each nerve feel electric at your touch. I’ve never felt a spark before, except this was almost too real. Too electric. Was it possible to be electrocuted by a touch that was so magnifying that you knew it would be the eventual death of you? Was it crazy to want it more each day,despite that it?

I was fascinated at the melody your tongue could muster up. Both through lyrics and against my own. It wasn’t just a moonlight werewolf howling hair standing on your arm, kind of fascination that you managed to drum up in my veins. It was much more.

Although, words seem to fail me at this precise moment. I am positive there will be a day when I could finally describe with much reverie and passion; what it is you’ve brought upon me. Maybe it will be a beautiful damned destruction or maybe it’ll be salvation.

 

Yours truly,

Painted Shadow.

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Love Only Leaves You Lonely

When we met, you lit up a part of me that I never knew was so dark

When you left you took a piece of me I wasn’t aware I was holding

When we kissed you filled a part of me that I thought was never empty

For I had comfortably filled it with alcohol and kisses from strangers.

But you came in to my life;

Like a hurricane that vowed to destroy everything in its path.

You swept me off my feet and spun me around in the air like a force to be reckoned with

I felt love at the same time I felt destruction.

You were the type of guilty pleasure I knew I wasn’t supposed to be enjoying or having,

Because it would all be over soon.

Because you would leave and I’ll be left in the mess that I used to be.

But you were the drug that every fiber in my body craved for.

And in the aftermath of your love, I was the wreck that you left behind.

Knotted hair and lips that cried for yours,

missing pieces of my heart thrown and scattered for the birds to find.

You were a hurricane that I stood with arms wide open for,

screaming at the skies to take me with you in your torrent of madness and love.