limerence
07/01/2025
"it hurt her in a pointless way, the kind of hurt she had no legitimate right to, and that had no cure."
maybe she thinks about me
maybe she meant it
Maybe...
Maybe...
Maybe...
And then I'm reminded that she has someone else, and then there aren't any more " maybe”
I replay her like a record with no end.
she smiled, a needle to the heart, each text message, unread…each glance, a drug I never wanted to quit.
My thoughts orbit her like she is the sun and I Am The reckless moon.
My thoughts orbit her like she is the sun and I Am The reckless moon.
Carving circles through complete madness.
She told me she didn't have the same feelings for me anymore. She wasn't in love with me. Was it that enough for me to walk away, and stop loving her back. Someone who probably never really loved me anyway.
She told me she didn't have the same feelings for me anymore. She wasn't in love with me. Was it that enough for me to walk away, and stop loving her back. Someone who probably never really loved me anyway.
Her name tasted like sugar on my tongue, yet it rots for me.
From within, I crave her not just her body her presence, her touch.
The way her voice wavered when she trusted me.
Some days, I'm convinced what we shared was real. Other days I'm conflicted, unsure, crazy and lose all sense of self. She lied about being with somebody for months. What else did she lie about? What was really the truth?
This thread, I pull this ache that refuses to loosen. Every shade of the sky feels like her, and it's so fucking unfair that the whole world mirrors what I can't have because of all of the maybes
A mirage, a trick of the heart.
A mirage, a trick of the heart.
And still, I look.
My mind is a temple she never asked to live in. I've lit candles and every single corner, prayed at her altar for the smallest of signs
a message
a thought
a second glance through the veil of silence.
Limerence is a religion, we're gods never speak…
Sometimes, I wonder if she knows how deep she really is buried.
My mind is a temple she never asked to live in. I've lit candles and every single corner, prayed at her altar for the smallest of signs
a message
a thought
a second glance through the veil of silence.
Limerence is a religion, we're gods never speak…
Sometimes, I wonder if she knows how deep she really is buried.
If her ears ring when I whisper her name at night.
Maybe, she is free now I'm the chain that refuses to cut…
This isn't love. This longing with a fever. This is a devotion, an obsession without a home. This is drowning in the idea of someone who doesn't exist.
Who never reaches back.
And still - I worship.
And still - I ache
And still - I hope
This isn't love. This longing with a fever. This is a devotion, an obsession without a home. This is drowning in the idea of someone who doesn't exist.
Who never reaches back.
And still - I worship.
And still - I ache
And still - I hope
Because limerence is louder than closure.
wish you'd publish
ReplyDeleteI feel this.
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