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Rb Aug 2016
Loving you is never easy
Never easy like it seems
Heartaches
Anger and cries
But we act like we are doing fine.

Loving you is never easy
Never easy like it seems
Most girl use your picture as their lockscreen
Because you are their real dream
That they want it to be reality.

Loving you is never easy
But
It is so exquisite as it should be

even
loving you is never easy
As long as you beside me
I will always can handle it.
Because
You are the cure
of the pain of losing you.

R.A.
I miss you so bad. and the greatest pain of loving somebody is that you afraid of losing them
Nina Jun 2019
I'll put your picture on my lockscreen
So that it'll be the first i see
When i wake up
When i check my phone
So that
Everytime there is a need to look at my phone
You're there
Smiling away
calm Jan 2018
Music blaring violently loud
You can hear it every word even though he's wearing headphones
Not concentrating,
He quickly goes through cupboards
Finding a glass
Then slowly but surely pulls open the fridge door
He wants a drink of milk, like when he was seven and rushing around the garden til his chest hurt
Having the time of his life
Until he needed a drink
Water? Yuck. Boooooring!
Juice? His mother would disapprove of that until after dinner.
Milk? Seems like the only good option.
The boy, now a man at 22 again, chuckles to himself as the song ends and he remembers what life was like as a child.
So innocent, so pure.

Then the song ends. A new one begins.
Your song.
His hand unwillingly jerks, spilling milk on the polished-to-perfection-counter,
He curses and puts down the bottle, sliding the cap on as tight as possible so he feels he still has strength in him.
He curses repeatedly,
But not because of the spilt milk.
But because he forgot.
All pictures were deleted from phones, all text messages ignored, all social media blocked
But he forgot about the song.

He hurries to find something to mop it up
And he tries hard not to
But he lets the lyrics pour into his brain
And he begins to crumble all over again

He remembers.
He remembers you telling him
"There's no point crying over spilt milk."
Yet his eyes are prickling with tears.
He chuckles because he thinks that's what he's doing
He believes that he is crying over spilling milk on his polished-to-perfection-counter in his tiny flat in the large, daunting city.
But he isn't.
And deep down
He hears a voice telling him he isn't.

But he won't listen to that voice.
He has to get over you.
He has gotten over you already.
Angry, pathetic tears fall down his face
As he sinks down to the ground
Looking into nowhere
But seeing only you

His hands tremble ever so slightly
As he fishes around for his phone
Buried deep in his pocket.
He begins to whimper slightly
But tells himself he is a grown up
And how he needs to act like one.

He slowly and uncertainly unlocks his phone
Which no longer has a selfie of him and you as a lockscreen
And fingers shaking with regret
He presses 'delete'
Just as the song ends

And just like that
Tears pour out of nowhere
As if he was suddenly hit on the back and they were pushed out
As if he was a bottle of milk
And someone's arm jolted
So what he had been holding in for too long
Just
       spilt
               like
                      milk.
This is another oldie, as you can maybe tell from the way I wrote it. I've always liked this one of mine, even though it may not be my most well-written piece ever. I just love the emotion in it is all. Hope you enjoy.
teaxstains Jun 2020
Sometimes when I miss you, I pick up the blue bottle of cologne you gave me (just because I said I liked it), spray it on my neck, and go to sleep with the memory of you enveloping me with your lips on my neck and your form pressed against mine from behind - my big spoon

And imagine you whispering "intimacy" into my ear as you fell asleep in that pose - like you always did - while I, like a cat would keep awake and just stare at that spot on the ceiling, willing myself not to fall asleep lest I should awake and find you gone.

I've been doing this since the last time your arms were around mine in a hug that neither of us wanted to break free from

Before I got on that train home for the last time

And you got on that plane home for the last time

Never to come back to me again

Despite all the shooting stars I wished on

Dead stars

Just like our future

I scrolled down my call history the other day till I came upon a familiar number

A dead number

Whom during this time, last year could almost pass as my lockscreen - because of the number of times I'd get a call from that number in a day

The number that went from being saved just as "Zfrom Tinder"

to "Z
"

to "Z*k *with a vibrating heart emoji beside it" (because whenever my phone vibrated with that number on it, so would my heart)

And finally just to a random series of numbers with no name because congrats, you just got deleted out of my contacts and out of my life

Out of sight, out of mind...

The day you called me again, I thought I saw 666 on the screen because the Devil might as well given me a call from hell as the operator with you on the other end waiting to talk to me again

And drag me back down there with you

Not this time, you aren't

For as far as I know, dead men tell no tales

And I can't hear dead people
Henrie Diosa Nov 2021
Twenty-two inch night shift screen, as yellow as the moon,
Bedroom midi keyboard typist tapping out a tune.
Headphones cancel noises I do not have funds to nix;
Before the piper pays, I gotta fix the final mix.

Tempest on the tabletop, and dishes in the sink;
Got no time to wipe them down; I need the time to sync.
Pinging pile of notifs on the lockscreen left on read;
Empty fridge and cabinets; I gotta get that bread.

— The End —