Blookenine - 284
I miss what love felt like.
Your body against mine, thoughts running miles, and hearts skipping beats.
The late night conversations, the messy breakdowns and scary arguments.
Emotions soaring and tumbling.
It made me feel alive, like this was all real and the world’s opportunities didn’t end.
You. It was you all along.
You set fire to the flame that burns inside me and with ease you put it out the day the sun set behind us.
Every single day that passes, I wonder how could someone have that much power over me? Of all the stars, gods, and mysteries out there… it was you that controlled me.
You did more than controlled though.
You taught, guided and assured me.
And sometimes when I lay down, I think to myself,
“I miss what love felt like.”
Just imagine finding that one person that makes you want to be a better version of yourself. Someone that makes you feel like doing good, doing the right things. Blessed are those people
Get up. Off that dirty ground. Wipe the dust from your knees, those tears off your cheeks. You think crying will save you, that crying will bring him back? Darlin’, he ain’t never comin back. He done told you, you were trash, he found someone better. Yet you let him see your tears, let him hear your cry, let him smirk because he knew he broke your precious little heart, knew he had control, he had power.
Prince Charming left you in the dumps, threw your glass slippers right at your foot, and yet that last cold glance he gives, your heart still beat like the first time he laid eyes on you and your breath still stuck at the back of your throat like when both your hands touched for the first time and lightning sparked through your body. Why. Why does his cold glance do this to you? Why does Prince Charming leave after taking hold of your heart, after taking every little piece of you. Why does Prince Charming get to live the happily ever after, while you turned to bubbles and disappeared?
I’ve had this blog since I was a freshman in high school. A newly minted 15-year old. I was a virgin who had already smoked pot. I had never been kissed. I had so many ideas of who I would be by 24 years old. Am I those things, yet? Hell no. I imagined I would have a college degree, live in a loft by the beach, and no one would be able to tame my “wild” spirit. Nothing about that fantasy is original or cool. I was seriously fucking deluded.
I am 24. I live on the West Coast, but I recently was laid off and now find myself unemployed. I have no college degree. I am lucky if I can find a company to pay me a living wage. My wild spirit has been tamed by becoming recently engaged to a white male from the suburbs of Philly.
I always wanted to be a writer even with my shitty grammar. I decided that I am here in the now with nothing to lose, so I figured I would start to write publicly. I suppose there’s a lot I have to say.
Generated prompt: Buck and Eddie have some naughty fun with whipped cream.
“Buck? Baby..” Eddie turns to Buck with with a raised eyebrow and a soft little smile. “You know I love you so much… but why did you buy two bottles of whipped cream?” He asks.
Buck grins a little and picks up the freshly opened one and shakes it up. “Its whipped cream and it was bogo!” He says happily, taking off the cap and spraying some into his mouth. Eddie chuckles and rolls his eyes, watching as Buck gets a little too much into his mouth and it dribbled a bit down his chin and giggles.
“Your so messy.” Eddie teases and licks it off his chin and kisses his lips softly. “But it’s pretty cute.” He takes the bottle from Buck and sprays some into his mouth. “We still don’t need it.” He says with a chuckle.
“But I want it.” He says, biting his lip, beautiful eyes raking down Eddie’s face to his lips. “For fun.” He says softly.
Eddie raises an eyebrow and chuckles, putting some whipped cream on two of his fingers and puts the to Bucks lips. Buck opens his mouth for Eddie’s fingers. Eddie smirks and slowly thrusts his fingers in and out of his boyfriends mouth. Buck whimpers, eyes shutting and lips shutting around Eddie’s fingers. He swallows around him, moaning softly and gently bobbing his head along with Eddie’s fingers.
“Jesus you look perfect like this.” He growls, shoving his fingers as deep as the go. Buck doesn’t move his head, throat flexing around the fingers. Buck and him had spent many many evening’s training Bucks gag reflex, and their work paid off.
“Go to the bedroom. Strip and get your paddle.” Buck let’s go off Eddie’s fingers, spit connecting his lips to Eddie’s hand. He shudders and quickly goes to the bedroom, following orders.
Eddie is there pretty quickly, hand stroking over his ass and rubbing over his cheeks gently. He takes the paddle from where Buck balanced it on his back and smacks it down hard.
Buck jolts, whimpering softly, pressing his face into the sheets. He likes the control Eddie has over him in these scenes. Another smack came down and he can feel his skin heating. It doesn’t take long for his ass fo be red hot, and Buck feels the cold whipped cream falling onto his ass cheek. He gasps, crying into the sheets at the sudden extreme cold on his ass. Eddie chuckles and licks it away, his mouth soothing the sudden cold pain. He whimpers quietly and when Eddie finishes cleaning him off his tongue traces over his hole.
“Fuck, Eddie..” He whimpers shakily.
“I’m glad you bought this Buck. I hope your ready to have a little extra fun tonight.” Buck shudders and arches his back in silent invitation. “Good boy.”
I stood in the doorway, her perfect eyes staring back at me with disbelief as I stood covered in my own blood and mud. What a night it had been but staring at her now made it all seem so worth it.
“I-What happened?” she asked worried as she rushed over to be in front of me. I just stood there, staring into her blue eyes, blue like the clearest of skies, bringing comfort and peace to the tornado of thoughts blowing through my head. It had only been a few days since I last saw her but it felt like the image of her was already starting to fade, the image of her in her black cocktail dress and red heels that she wore on our friday night dates, or the way she applied makeup to her already beautiful face with such poise and grace like she was painting a canvas. I was afraid of losing the memory of the way her eyes and smile looked when she saw something sweet happen in a movie, how her eyes would sparkle, I was afraid of losing the memory of how peaceful she would look when I would wake up before her. I was scared of losing the feeling of her hugging me unbelievably tight when she would have a bad day, or how she would hold my hand tighter when we were watching scary movies at the theater. I was afraid I would never get to see her in her grey sweatpants and my oversize hoodie on her with her hair in the messiest of buns or hear her sing from the kitchen as she would be making a bowl of cereal. I was afraid of losing the piece of my heart that belongs to her, I was afraid of forgetting all her freckles and sick days, and petty arguments. I was afraid of losing all the loose pieces of hair I would find. I would miss her and I was afraid I was going to forget her. “Are you okay?”
I swallowed the lump in my throat, the lump forming from all my fears and worries playing out in my head, “I love you.”
She looked me over as she still tried to figure out what happened to me, “I love you too.”
“No, I really love you,” I stated. “I love you more than anyone and anything else in this world. You’re my best friend and I couldn’t live a life without you, I hope you know that. You’ve made me want to do better, to be better. I would do anything for you and I would go anywhere you’d want me to, I mean that. You’re my everything. I hated myself before I met you, I hated the way I looked, how I thought, the way I breathed. I hated being in my own skin and then I met you and I love you so much that it made me forget how to hate myself, made me want to be okay with who I was. You made me feel okay to feel alive again and I can’t thank you enough. It felt like I was living everyday in this continuous motion, that everyday was the same day and it was all in black and white but you make everyday feel so worth it and like it’s a brand new day and each day feels so full of life and color. You make me want to get out of bed in the morning and do everything I can to be the best I can. I would die for you, I would give everything I had in this world and then some for your happiness. I would do anything to see you smile because your smile does unspeakable things to my heart and I just need you in this life and the next. I need you more than anyone else and I want to spend forever and a day with you, no matter what the world throws at us. Even though I don’t have a ring to do this properly, will you still marry me?”
“That’s not what we do child, we don’t think; we keep running ‘til we find a place to land”
It’s hard not to write about this made up boy I think about all the time.
He’s tall— like the magnolia tree sitting outside my window. His arms are the leaves that swing down to reach the top of my head. And his legs are the growing trunk that bring all the life.
He’s got smell-good, honey-brown hair— like the honeysuckles I search high and low for during the summer.
And the brightest eyes— like the sun that soaks my veins in happiness.
This bright-eyed boy has got my mind spinning every second of every day.
I dream about the crisp air that fills the space around us as we lazily dance around to One Direction in our apartment that overlooks the city. And how perfectly my hand fits in his.
I dream about carelessly falling into him at the end of each day. And how perfectly molded his body is to mine.
I dream about loving him the way no one has ever loved before. And how it’ll feel to be loved the way I never thought possible.
I never want to wake up from my dreams about this bright-eyed boy.
Because I already know my reality.
He’ll be tall— like the liquor bottles that line my kitchen counters.
He’ll have sweat-soaked, dark hair— like the air after a weekend bender.
And the darkest eyes— like the inside of the punched-in wall.
My reality will be a repeat of what it already is.
No dancing; just forceful movement that hurts.
No restful nights; just sunken eyes waking up to the calm before the storm.
No new love; just hateful truths hidden behind words of love.
I won’t get my brightly colored dream. Instead, I’ll get the only thing I’ve ever known— hurt.
Carta 1 - Ver coisas fofas doem
Ver casais felizes machuca, não porque não quero ver outras pessoas felizes, mas por pensar que já fomos assim, minha meta de relacionamento era o nosso próprio relacionamento e hoje não é mais.
A gente se perdeu, no fundo eu ainda acho que você só tá fazendo o que tua mãe tanto quer e obedecendo ela de novo: terminando comigo.
Mas você não tá contente em apenas acabar nosso relacionamento, você precisa acabar comigo mesmo, destruir meus sentimentos, pisar em cima de cada coisa e palavra fofa que já disse pra você, me colocar no fundo do poço e enterrar mais uma vez toda a confiança que eu tinha em mim.
Me dói e me machuca ver onde chegamos, olhar pra tudo que já passou e pensar que jamais viveremos de novo, que cada dia que passa é um dia a menos com você e que estamos caminhando pra um final inevitável.
“Just because I’m used to living in chaos does NOT mean that I like it ”
Ode to Rejected Love
The words spilled out of my lips like water from a upended glass, trailing between us
As I tried to wipe the mess, apologies actings as napkins to dry up
Feelings unrequited yet so passionate they could not help but bubble
And while they lingered your guilt hung, dark and murky
Since it was I the one who caused the disruption of friendship
Of reading inbetween the lines of interactions
Making me believe there was a spark there were no spark lay
That the harder I tried to deny them the angriery they got
Drowning me from the inside out until today
My emotions swirling up, cracking the harmony of us
Because they were not content bubbling
So needed to gush out my mouth in chaotic spurts
And run down my eyes
Morphing me into an bronze water fountain sculpture
Putting my raw, unadulterated feelings on display for onlookers to gawk at
Although things were fine before daydreams of holding hands
And mutual like were too enticing to ignore
But at least you were kind about letting me down
With the keeping the extension of friendship
Trying to act as a life preserver to save me from a deadly submersion
My lungs take their last waterlogged breath as my fingers type away:
“I have feelings for you but I know the requited aspect isn’t there.”
she traces the veins on my wrist. each blue-green like quiver under finger. she sends fire into my veins
Trying to feel like a normal person, trying to not want to die and its nice outside which should make me feel better but strangely it makes me feel worse because the sun reminds me that Im not happy and Im not sure if i ever will be.
And in her memory,
was a smile.
A dimly lit, soft endearing smile.
Oh god, and she simply ached to see that smile again. To grasp hold of it in her sight just once more. Holding it tender and sweet.
For now, she has her memory and that will have to do. Yet, even that will fade with time. Over the years the edges will become more blurry. The thought won’t shine as bright. Eventually, that memory of a smile, will become nothing more but a vision in the dark.
And only as she is looking back on her life, the time passing by like reels of film, will she again recall that smile. And then perhaps that laugh. And the touch of soft fingers against her warm skin.
Only then, will she remember her.