CHANSONETTE

Disheveled Story Of Everything

Month: May, 2016

Glimpse of magic

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Yes, I remember you.

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I Promise You This — Thought Catalog

EleazarI guess I expect a lot in relationships, and when those expectations aren’t met, I feel disappointed and betrayed. It’s unfair, especially when the person I’m dating isn’t aware of this mental checklist I’ve concocted over years of being treated poorly, or just dating the wrong but very lovely, guy. I know what I want…

via I Promise You This — Thought Catalog

I am a broken glass

Abandoned

You know, girls are like porcelains. Like the doll that they are, polished, beautiful and fragile. I’m more of a broken glass. I’m in pieces, sharp and well, broken. Broken glasses hurt people that’s why nobody goes near them. If they do, it’ll be too shattered to fix that they sweep the broken pieces up to discard.

I’m a discarded broken piece of glass. I’m transparent but inside I’m vulnerable. I’m hard on the outside but not any more because a glass can only hold so much pressure. You could say that I topple myself over and break my own heart from the choices I’ve made. But I knew when I saw my own pieces on the floor every night that I can never piece them back whole again.

While I’m distracted trying not to shatter, you saw me broken. Unlike porcelains, I’m not pretty. I am chipped, not chiselled. I’m plain, not decorated. I take no shape from the world, I am my own solid being. I live for a purpose and not just aesthetics. I thought I would scare you away or make you take a broom to sweep me off.

I am dangerous, yet you took the sharp broken pieces with your bare hands. While I try not to let another piece fall, you’re trying to fix the ones on the floor. Sometimes you hold everything together, even the unbroken ones. On bad days, the broken glasses you’ve somehow fixed, shatters again from the inside out, like a bullet shot through. You’ll sigh, nonetheless, pick them up again and glue them back to me.

Until the day when I can hold myself up again, thank you for holding me up. You could’ve chosen a beautifully crafted porcelain but you didn’t. For that, I love you with all the broken pieces that I have and all that’s left of me.

10 Things I Hate About You

I hate the way you talk to me, and the way you cut your hair.

I hate the way you drive my car. I hate it when you stare.

I hate your big dumb combat boots, and the way you read my mind.

I hate you so much it makes me sick; it even makes me rhyme.

I hate it, I hate the way you’re always right. I hate it when you lie.

I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry.

I hate it when you’re not around, and the fact that you didn’t call.

But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you.

Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.

-10 things I hate about you

Scars

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Scars

The words that remained untold

Everything I will never hear from you

Why she had to go, why you had to leave

How you left this family broken with grief

The hands that held my heart

The same hands broke my soul

You are not gentle any more

Like a double-edged sword, leaving scars from every side

I left the open scars sore

It’s not that I don’t feel the pain,

It’s just I’m not afraid of hurting any longer

You will never clean up the mess you’ve made

Neither will I try to piece something you have broken because…

you will break it again