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"

I saw the picture of her wearing your sweatshirt
and you wearing the sweatshirt I just gave back after four years and
I wonder if she knows
that I wore that sweatshirt when I saw you after 3 months
and cried in the back of the car because I missed you so much
I wonder if she knows
about the time that you slowly took that sweatshirt off of me and
kissed me everywhere I’m sure you’ve already kissed her
I wonder if she knows
how you loved it when I wore nothing but that sweatshirt.

Even though you’ve washed every bit of me out since
I know a piece of me is still there and
I wish I could tell you she’ll never love you like I did
and I wish I could tell her not to even try but
who am I to judge?
I’m not a part of your life anymore and
you’ve made it clear I never will be again but
I hope maybe you thought of me when she
pulled that sweatshirt over her head and you
finally saw she wasn’t me.

"
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"

my mother told me that you can’t cure depression;
that taking pills wouldn’t fix me,
and taking six instead of the prescribed two definitely wasn’t going to speed up the process.

but i met a boy who tasted better than prozac.

he made it easier to be out of bed.
he kissed me like i was alive,
like i wasn’t empty,
like maybe there was something left inside of me.
he made my bones ache less when he touched me.

he made it okay.

when my world was crashing down around me,
he picked up all the pieces.
when i stopped breathing and tried to tear open my wrists to find the last little bits of happiness left in my veins,
he was there to lace me back together.

but he left.
i haven’t slept in three days.

my mother was right.

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I just want hickeys and self esteem

(Source: counterparrts, via melting---moons)