loveheartbreakgrief

[loveheartbreakgrief]

16.10.20

I want to know when you stopped loving me.

I want to know when I stopped being the last one you thought about at night.

when did it stop hurting to see me hug someone else?

when did you stop trying to get closer to me.

i want to know when you forgot how I smell, the colour of my eyes, the shape of my shoulders in the afternoon light. 

when did you stop crying over me?

when could you think about me without that feeling in your chest?

you know the one.

like your heart is being squeezed of the blood that pumps it. 

I want to know how long you hoped I’d change my mind.

how long were you so fucking desperate for my touch?

when could you drink without thinking of me?

when did I become just your friend?

when did you notice her?

when did she replace me?

did she ever? or is she just filling my seat in your car?

when you kiss her, do you think of me? 

remember me. fucking remember me. 

- g. borne

#poetry #journal entry #sad #breakup #heartbreak #love

[loveheartbreakgrief]

1.9.20

every time I think I might be over you, you slither into my dreams again.

you look at me like you used to before,

you look at me like you love me again.

and your determination to prove it is written in every breath we share.

and I wonder if you will ever be intolerable to me.

I wonder if I’ll get that far in this seemingly never-ending journey. 

but how could I hate you when i still dream of how you used to look at me?

when your lips taste like the summer we spent loving each other,

how could I never want to be around you?

and in my dream, you whispered “it was always you.

it was never her.”

you never loved her, certainly not like you loved me. 

and you kissed my neck to prove it.

and you held me tight to keep me.

and you loved me like you were always meant to.

- g. borne

#poetry #journal entry #dream #breakup #heart break #young love #sad

[loveheartbreakgrief]

11.7.20

I don’t pine for you anymore, at least, today I didn’t.

I pine for what you have with her, what the two of you have together. 

I envy the amalgamation of your separate lives, the twisting together of your futures. 

I sat and listened to you talk about furniture this evening, all the odd bits and pieces that you were planning to bring from your separate houses into the one home you’ll share six months from now, and I thought I envied her.

I thought old feelings of resentment and jealousy were stirring again.

but then I thought some more as I was driving home, realised that I envy you both for having a future in which someone is by your side. 

so as the cold streetlights passed me by in the empty streets of this empty town, I felt the weight of my own loneliness seep into my bones, wrap its clawed fingers around my shoulders, sink into my heart.

the loneliness that I had dismissed not one day prior. 

I am so envious of the tangibility of your future, the fact that you two can envision his desk, your bed, those bookshelves and that lounge being packed into his car to move cross country with you both, ready for your new home.

you worry about having matching bedside tables in your bedroom while I fear, I know, that my dusty old mugs and potted plants may be the only thing I have when I leave. 

because I am so crushingly alone, and I am petrified of being on my own.

I envy, so very much, the fact that even if you can’t get his desk up the stairs to your new home, or even if it costs just too much to buy a fridge on your own, or even if your new house burns down, you will have each other.

i will leave a familiar world where I feel unlovable to be incredibly alone in an unfamiliar world.

you future is so tangible together, and some small part of me still wishes that it was with me, not her, but the rest of me is happy for you. 

I am happy for you.

- g. borne

#poetry #journal entry #love #breakup #sad #moving on #first love #heartbreak

[loveheartbreakgrief]

24.6.20

the universe is infinite, and we know so little about her.

we are such scarily insignificant flashes of existence to her, 

such fleeting spasms of emotion, and construction, and deconstruction.

and it feels as though the weight of the universe rests upon our shoulders

yet everything we know, could ever know, have ever known, 

she, this cosmic giantess, blinks and it is gone. 

she closes and re-opens her eyes, and we are once again dust.

victor goldschmidt is one with the olivine he so loved,

and caroline herschel drifts among saturn’s moons.

she, the universe, has missed everything we discovered, destroyed, became.

and she shrugs her shoulders, which are decorated with dying suns,

because she is infinite, and we are nothing to her. 

  yet amongst the chaos that she imbued us with,

and despite her closed eyes as our sun created, then destroyed this galaxy,

even she knows that I love you.

she carefully tuned the strings of her cosmic harp and played a song,

just for us.

she knows that i will love you until our sun turns cold and mean, 

until the next implodes, 

until the universe herself lies down to sleep.

I hope she is lucky enough to dream of you.

- g. borne

#breakup #poetry #journal entry #heartbreak #young love #sad #love #ive been watching far too many neil degrasse tyson documentaries

[loveheartbreakgrief]

1.5.20

you’ve stopped walking on eggshells, and I never stopped loving you.

the idea of me not loving you doesn’t scare you anymore either.

I guess I should be grateful, because I get to see your laugh now.

I get to make you laugh in that way I always wanted to.

it could still burn up a billion stars, your laugh.

it’s still beautiful, and it’s the only part of you that is mine.

- g. borne

8.1.18

… and as much as I love you, we don’t talk. you don’t let me in. you’re still so worried that I won’t love you if you stop walking on eggshells around me.

and I do get jealous of your friends, because I keep imagining them making you laugh in that way I only see from a distance. I can’t make you laugh like that. it’s beautiful, and it’s a part of you that isn’t mine. 

- g. borne

#poetry #breakup #love #sad #heartbreak #journal entry

[loveheartbreakgrief]

9.4.20

i told him,

“i dreamt last night, of you and me.

we don’t know the places we used to know.

behind us, we’ve left only desolate homes.

isn’t it nice, my love?

we’ve got a house now, far up in the hills

with dusty, sage coloured curtains.

through them, we can see the faded orchard, I’m certain.

isn’t it perfect, husband?

you’ve not aged a bit since we were eighteen,

but you dress yourself a bit nicer.

in evenings, over glasses of lime cider,

you get some faraway look in your eyes.

our children play on acid-green hills,

eyes like yours that stare.

sadly, my love, they’ve inherited my hair

wispy, as if zephyros combs it himself.”

but he said,

“this dream that you’ve written is a prison to me.

this home you imagine is suffocating beyond belief.

I know that you know that she’s waiting for me,

she’s the only one I want to see. 

if you love me, let me leave your dream,

return me to where I should be.”

I only hope that shades of green will always remind you of me. 

- g. borne

#breakup #poetry #journal entry #young love #heartbreak #sad #jealousy #love

[loveheartbreakgrief]

26.2.20

I am so tired of driving away from you. 

I hope you don’t mind sweeping up the broken bits of my smile that I left on your doorstep tonight. I’m sorry to have made a mess.

I’m so sick of understanding you like nobody else can. I wish that you and I couldn’t hold whole conversations with just our eyes, because when we do, we get interrupted before I can say ‘I love you.’

I’m so bitter about leaving you with her. anybody, everybody but you can see that she can’t be as gentle as you need her to be, as nurturing as you should expect. 

I’m bitter because you open up your heart to everyone who’ll take your love, and rather than gently sewing shut your chest at the end of the day, I know that she just rips you open further and takes more from you. 

I’m so angry that I can’t stay and make you feel okay about the things that I know are bothering you. I know that you feel okay when you smile at me.

I feel grateful that I have the chance to be near you, that I get to cradle bits of your smiles and gestures and mannerisms in my heart. 

I’m happy that you’re happy when she hugs or kisses you. 

I only wish that you’d tell her to be gentle, gentle with all the tender bits of your soul that she gets to hold, and gentle in her love for you. 

I’m sick of not being able to show you the gentle love and kindness that you deserve. 

- g. borne

#breakup #poetry #pettypoetry #journal entry #young love #heartbreak #sad #jealousy

[loveheartbreakgrief]

undated

I love you, and I will love you until humankind conquers the entire galaxy. I love you with every atom of me. I love you like a cat loves the warm nest she curls up to sleep in. I love you like that wrinkled old fisherman loves his boat. I love you the way a madman loves the ticking clock in the corner that drives him mad. I love you the way a tired old woman loves the silence of her home. I love you the way potatoes love gravy. I love you the way a scholar loves dust-covered piles of books and half-scribbled-out papers that are strewn across her office floor. 

that is to say, the way I love you is effortlessly. it is a force of nature that emerges from my chest to snarl and curse at the harsh world it is facing.

I love you like this, yet I don’t want to be with you again. 

I love you like the running stream loves the once-jagged rocks that it has spent centuries smoothing with a cool hand, yet I understand that we are too heavily damaged. we’ve lost the chance to live in blissful ignorance of the way that others have loved us.

now she has kissed your neck, smoothed your hair behind your ears, seen the way your tears gather on your cheeks like pearls, and she has done and seen all these things too many times for me to do the same again in good conscience. 

I am now beginning to learn how to re-file our love as a dream: untouched by daylight, but frequently re-visited in the hazy space that memories go to become sweet nostalgia. 

I hope to remember you when I am eighty years old as somebody I love still, but who no longer makes me feel lost. 

- g. borne

#falling in love #journal entry #poetry #sad #love #i love you #breakup #heartbreak #first love

[loveheartbreakgrief]

27.1.20

I find it difficult to have hope at the moment. for the world, and the future, but more specifically, I have no hope for you and me. I keep in mind that ‘what is meant to be, will be’, but I feel that at this point, we’ve had too much emotional distance placed between us that I finally want to give up. 

I want to surrender, and to move as far away from you as I can so that I can stop being hurt by being around you. I want to move away so that I can lose the illusion of being close with you in the way I want to be close with you. I’d let you in, I trust few people as much as I trust you. but perhaps I just don’t trust myself to be able to climb the walls that she has constructed between us without making a mistake and hurting one or both of us. 

I miss that weekend in december that I had away with you, because in every moment of it, I felt whole. like I had been fixed, rejuvenated, restored, re-birthed. the universe had been reset to revolve around just you and me and us together. being close to you makes me feel lighter, so free. freer than i’ve been ever before. I feel healthier and happier and I feel beautiful. but now, I’m losing hope that I’ll ever feel that again. 

I want to give you up.

acceptance sounded easy, far easier than bargaining, or anger, or depression. but acceptance is a soul-crushing and dream-mangling beast. I feel our love slipping away, like mellow autumn crumbling under winter. I want to see you again. I never want to see you again. 

- g. borne

#poetry #breakup #sad #young love #journal entry #pain #heartbreak #stages of grief

[loveheartbreakgrief]

14.12.19, coucou

we’ve been using other people’s lyrics to communicate our feelings to eachother. 

at least, that’s what i’ve been doing.

i send you the songs i like.

i try to catch your eye from the driver’s seat as we sing that sad song. 

and i learn the right chords, but change the lyrics to make them more pathetic.

don’t you call him baby,

we’re not talking lately,

don’t you call him what he used to call me.      (harry styles, cherry)

- g. borne

#falling in love #poetry #journal entry #pain #jealous #heartbreak #breakup #harry styles #cherry

[loveheartbreakgrief]

21.11.19

our first kiss was in my room.

do you remember?

we’d been texting all the night before, so at the movie we went and saw beforehand, I fell asleep next to you.

but we’d made it home, up to my room, and we sat on my bed, just talking.

the other day I picked up one of my old reed oil diffusers, and I smelt it. 

tears sprung into my eyes. it smelt like you. 

and it smelt like our first kiss, it smelt like what my room smelt like when I had you in my arms.

kissing you for the first time, I was nervous.

I pretended to be confident for you, but I felt like I was picking up a piece of ice from the ground in my bare hands. I felt like you were the most beautiful, most phenomenal piece of this earth that I had ever seen, and I felt like I could make you melt if I wasn’t careful. 

but you’ve always been so warm, in body and in heart.

and your lips, when they met mine, were warm and soft and gentle. you were not ice, instead you felt like home. 

our last kiss was around a fire, playing spin-the-bottle with our friends.

do you remember?

we’d broken up a few months ago.

there was smoke in the air, and on your hair, and in your eyes.

I couldn’t see them, your eyes, through the smoke, so I couldn’t read your thoughts in them like I normally do. 

but I feel that it must’ve hurt you, the way that I seemed to kiss you just like I’d kissed everyone else.

I should’ve told you then that you’ve never been like everyone else.

I wish that even as I’d leaned down to you, even as you tasted the cigarettes on my tongue, I had let you know that you are my love, my drug, my happiness and my muse. 

I wish that as I was moving away, the absence of you had spurred me to turn around and scream that I adore you. 

I still adore you. 

I will always adore you, my love.

- g. borne

#falling in love #poetry #journal entry #pain #heartbreak #breakup #young love #kiss

[loveheartbreakgrief]

7.11.19

I want you to miss me. I want you to miss me so much you hate me. 

I want for you to be lying on your back in the grass, drunk and watching the heavens revolve around the hills, and I want you to feel hot-cold tears slip from your eyes and roll down your cheeks and land in your ears in that uncomfortable way that tears do.

I want you to close your eyes, tight, and shake your head to try shift thoughts you shouldn’t be having.

thoughts about reaching out and wrapping your arm around my waist, cupping my face in your hands, tangling your fingers in my hair.

I want to see pain in your eyes as you remember that we can’t touch, that in this moment we are two stars, vast and fiery, and we orbit around each other without getting too close. because otherwise we might explode.

I want you to wake up with tears on your eyelids, because in your dreams you can kiss me and tell me you love me. 

I wish that when you thought about your future you felt guilty because in your daydreams I’m the one who accidentally falls asleep on our couch instead of in our bed after a long day. 

I want to know that you’ve been imagining how my neck looks covered in your kisses. remembering it. remembering how my hair would tickle your neck as I held you in my arms.

I wish I knew that you were remembering little pieces of us that you’d forgotten, and that you were keeping these pieces on the shelf above your bed like I do. 

I wish you’d watch me walking and have to force yourself to look away. 

I wish you’d make a playlist of all the songs that reminded you of me, and that you’d cry yourself to sleep listening to it every night for months. 

I want you to feel excited when your phone flashes on because of me. 

I wish you thought of me, and craved me. 

I wish you were the one holding a smouldering cigarette between your fingers and telling people that you only smoked when you were ‘sad or drunk’. 

or I wish you’d listened to me, looked at me when I said that, understood why I said it. I wish you’d walked over, looked me in the eyes and shared a cigarette with me (I know you weren’t drunk).

I wish you felt the universe in your chest like I do. 

I wish you needed me like I need you.

I wish you regretted letting me go. 

- g. borne

#falling in love #poetry #journal entry #pain #heartbreak #breakup #young love

[loveheartbreakgrief]

10.10.19

find me,

broken and bruised, wings crushed under my body, 

delicate bones fractured and smashed. 

I’ve given up on trying to get back on my feet, to fly back home to my nest. 

save me, 

I’ve been begging you to save me,  

bring me home, wherever that is. 

wrap me in blankets and place me by the fire,

kiss the top of my head and tell me it’s okay.

blind me.

tear my eyes from their sockets.

let me know nothing of how she looks to you, how she looks with you. 

of how I look without you. 

let the blood dripping down my cheek take the form of weary travellers

following well-worn tear tracks down my skin.

remind me

that you’ve never stopped caring for me in some way, and some day

you will remember loving me too. 

and maybe that will remind you of how much I loved you. 

write me, 

tell me you don’t know how you were so, so blind.

you never saw me cry... no... maybe you should

just forget me

move away, get away to somewhere else. 

be the person I saw in you after our first kiss, make someone happy. 

I’ll do the same, somewhere else, for someone else. 

and I never was religious, but I hope for a gracious god.

a gracious god to let me into heaven.

because in heaven, you’re looking for me and I’m not hiding. 

you’ve remembered the smell of my hair, 

and the way that my fingers play on your skin...

maybe we’ll meet in heaven. until then,

think of me. 

- g. borne

#falling in love #poetry #journal entry #pain #heatbreak #breakup #young love

[loveheartbreakgrief]

25.9.19

I think you love me.

There’s no way we could match, mesh, merge as well as we do if you didn’t. it just makes sense, you loving me, and me loving you. when we play music together, we just make it work. I don’t have to think about it like I do with anyone else, I just know what you’re going to play and how I can work with it. it’s magic. 

I’m not sure what I’m saying, but I do think you love me. 

I’m not sure where you’ve hidden that love. maybe it’s a painting, a sculpture perhaps, hidden in a dark room. I think it’s a drawing, hyper-realistic, in your style, but it’s colourful. it’s not like all your other works. it’s a little bit out of place. it’s magnificent, because it encapsulates first kisses and our excitement, it captures tender, soft arms that clasp together under warm covers. it’s hyper-realistic, yet at the same time I can’t quite make out what it’s supposed to be. but I think you love me. 

I let you give up on me. I let you lock the painting away in a dark room where nobody can see it, because there, it can’t get to you. you can’t see it, it can’t remind you of me. so you moved on. 

people say that things have a way of working out, that eventually the thing that is good and beautiful will happen. I suppose they’re right, look at Vincent: his paintings are good and beautiful, and eventually they were discovered. 

but nobody loved Vincent Van Gogh until he was dead. he was alone with his paintings, and he died slowly and painfully amongst them. 

mum says that maybe I need to let something else go, let something else die to allow the beautiful thing to happen. 

our feelings are too raw. I love you. she loves you. you might love her, but I think you love me. 

- g. borne

#falling in love #poetry #journal entry #heartbreak #breakup #young love

[loveheartbreakgrief]

21.9.19

we’ve been in this valley before

this dark and brooding valley. 

with its jagged precipices,

and its cracked stone faces,

that leer at me like murderous villains. 

you’ve not seen the deep secret that the valley hides. 

when you were here before, you were a visitor

a chauffer, a messenger.

I’ve been in this valley before

I feel my feet sinking beneath me.

quicksand misery. 

the deeper you walk into this valley, the greyer the the looming trees,

the sharper the rocks,

whose jagged edges slice at my feet like broken bottles. 

this is not the worse part of this torturous valley. 

where you’ve never ventured is where I felt life flee from my body.

there is a beast, there. 

she feasts, day and night on neon lights, and champagne, 

and upon hands that linger, tentative, at a soft waist. 

she remembers you, because eventually she feasted on you. 

the beast, she nibbles at my fingers

and runs a claw across my face,

down my neck, she flicks my jugular,

and she carves a cross, bloody and weeping 

above my heart. 

because I am alone with her, now. 

in this abominable valley. 

she and I, we see you from time to time

on a hill, far away, above the earth, in the sky.

we see you.

she misses you; you were so sweet. 

but she knows you’d take me away from the valley, 

from her.

so she tries, desperately, to avoid ever seeing you again.

because she loves me,

and she would miss me.

this beast, she loves me like I love you. 

- g. borne

#falling in love #poetry #journal entry #depression #heartbreak #breakup #young love

[loveheartbreakgrief]

18.9.19 (part two)

sometimes it feels like you still love me. when it’s just you and me I forget that I can’t just reach out and touch you, step in close and just relax and let every piece of sadness and exhaustion fall from my shoulders onto the floor at our feet. sometimes it feels like you feel it too. today, I got tired of everything and sat cross-legged on the floor, and I don’t know whether you meant to, or whether I’m overanalysing or imagining, but I swear that you stepped in close and stood over me, just over my left shoulder. it felt like you were saying that I was yours, but I know that I’m not.  

I just want to know whether you feel what I feel between us. whether you’ve ever thought of me and felt guilty because you’re with someone else. do I invade your dreams like a flitting ghost like you do mine? do you dream of telling me that you love me? that you always have, and that you always will?

I don’t think that you do.

I found a card that you gave me on my sixteenth birthday. it was stashed with all the rest, but I read it and cried and pressed it to my chest and I couldn’t bear the thought of putting you back with the others. I left it on the shelf next to my bed, above my head where it can beckon your ghost into my dreams.

- g. borne

#falling in love #poetry #journal entry #heatbreak #breakup #young love

[loveheartbreakgrief]

18.9.19 (part one)

hey my love,

maybe one day you’ll read everything I’ve written here, or maybe one day I’ll laugh and throw this whole book in the fire.

I hope to god it’s the former, I don’t think I could ever not feel anything reading these pages. if I’m eighty and you and I haven’t seen each other in sixty years, I think I’ll still remember how much I love you, and how much it hurt to love you.

thats option one: you’ll forget about me, and I’ll remember you.

option two is that we’ll forget about each other. in a sense, that’s all I want at the moment, to forget you and how much I love you and how stupid I was to let you go... twice.

and option three? that I’ve given you this book so you can see yourself how much I care. if you have, you’ll have already complained about my handwriting, and you’re subconsciously reluctant to let me, or anyone in. I know you, I’d like to think I know you better than most people. you hide it well, but I know how being hurt makes you retreat back into your shell, and it takes you a long time to trust and love again.

if we’ve taken option three, if I’ve been lucky enough to get you back, you should know that before you, I thought I knew what love was. I guess I do, but there’s love and then there’s how I feel about you. love is how I loved ******, or *****. I thought that was it, and then I feel in love with you.

I was lost. no, I am lost, still. today, I feel like I’m floundering in water, teeming with sharks, and there’s a lump in my throat that might choke me, and at any given point during the day, I could crawl into a corner and cry and cry and cry.

but I also feel as if we, you and I, are simultaneously the only people on earth, but also that we’re not even real. like there’s no way that you and I could possibly exist in the same moment without the stars imploding, and time stopping, and distance becoming immeasurable. especially when we exist simultaneously, but not together.

the point is, if you are miraculously reading this: I don’t think I could stop loving you if I tried.

- g. borne

#falling in love #poetry #journal entry #heartbreak #breakup #young love