Author Archives: freeeky
youre so fake.
ill
write a run-on sentence about how this stalin’esque paranoia about my love life is slowly taking over my mind and did you see those planes the other day that i dont look for any more cus it doesnt feel right cus they all just remind me of you and why did you have to screw this up for me why did i let you,
sp a ce ou t sent en ce s,
bold a few words,
make a
not
at all
interesting
structure
and call myself a poet.
when all i want to do is stop writing about
you.
moja se zadnjih deset dni.
celotna stvar je dokaj uneventful, znam jo ze na pamet, ampak vseeno sem celo dopoldne cutila neko zivcnost. s pakiranje sem odlasala do zadnje minute, nekaj ni bilo prav. stvari sem iz bordo sivega nahrbtnika vzela vsaj trikrat, racionalno se nisem mogla spomnit nicesar, kar bi lahko manjkalo, ampak obcutek je ostal. tudi dolgo po tistem, ko smo zaprli vhodna vrata stanovanja zadnjega tedna.
zdaj vem.
pozabila sem naju.
zdaj mi je jasno, zakaj mi je roka tako pogosto usla na njeno desno bedro in zakaj sem s taksnim veseljem prepletala svoje prste z njenimi. tistega obcutka utesnjenosti, ko so prsti popolnoma “zaklenjeni”, nisem nikoli marala. ampak zdaj mi je jasno. iskala sem zadnje dotike. dogodek zadnjega dne, katerega bi bila morala pricakovati, sem dala nekam v pozabo, v najbolj temacn del mojih mozganov, a mi podzavest ni dala miru. prasica.
“ampak hvala za izkusnje.”
em, ja, prosim?
in zdaj je sla.
lepo od nje, da mi je vsaj par modric pustila.
heartbreak.
This is heartbreak. This is how it curves its way into your veins and twists its teeth into your neck and it isn’t anything like self-pity or weak but it’s the hollowness in your eyelids and that emptiness in your throat and someone’s always going to tell you that you shouldn’t hurt like this, but it’s okay.
Hurt.
This is the one thing no one teaches you.
(vir: thought catalog)
at least for a little while (longer).
i put on an amateurish production of my
feelings, main protagonist missing until a
dramatic ending where i become an unfeeling
idiot. there is something undeniably attractive
about someone beyond my reach. i grasp at
her like grasping at straws, and tho i never
understood the saying ive got 500 ikea straws
just for her. doomed from the get-go i always
take her suggestion of moving on the most
insulting way possible. her words are empty,
flat, emotionless. sometimes i can have more
meaningful conversations about tying my
shoes. and tho i condescendingly despise her
presence i think it would be really cool if she
stayed.
moj zen.
nekateri se sproscajo tako, da pretecejo pol maratona, se s kolesom peljejo od maribora do ljubljane ali gredo trikrat na smarno goro se pred sesto zjutraj. pravijo, da je za sprostitev potrebno neko gibanje.
jaz gledam v strop.
lezim na postli, gledam v strop in imam popolnoma prazno glavo. strop je v celoti pobarvan na belo a vedno uspem najti neko malo bolj ali malo manj belo piko, v katero se zagledam. ne bo dolgo, ko bosta iz te ene pike nastali dve, se priblizali, postali spet ena, se razdelili na dva dela, se priblizali in postali spet tista prva pika, v katero sem se zagledala.
ponovi velikokrat.
nekateri se sprostijo ob branju knjig. tistih debelih, s skoraj tisoč stranmi, ki so del trilogije v petih delih. spet drugi odigrajo partijo saha, na racunalniku streljajo nemce ali mecejo banane ter resujejo princese. domisljija mora delat sto na uro.
jaz gledam v strop.
stojim sredi kuhinje in gledam v tisto slabo pobarvano luc, ki ze dolgo ni vec luc ampak je samo zarnica. ikeina varcna zarnica. tam, kjer bi mogla bit druga, je samo prazen navoj iz katerega strli koscek rdece zice.
vcasih razmisljam, kaj bi se zgodilo, ce bi se dotaknila te zice.
sploh kaj?
and this isnt about you and im okey with it.
i hope its alright if i still smell you on
my pillow, its sort of like daydreaming
in clumsily sewn together sentences that
shouldnt make any sense.. so i wrote
about it.
your fingers caressed the back of my neck
as you zipped up my hoodie, its red flashing
in your eyes, lick them cold and start over.. so
i wrote about it.
i prefer your 2am texts that always wake me
up and maybe i should be nonchalant with
your kind but i really cant let you go without
a kiss.. so i wrote about it.
you are my disaster of hide and seek, your
triumphs show in your smile and sometimes
air around us is empty with jealousy, i know
you feel it, too.. so i wrote about it.
at least we stopped, right?