I think about love.
A lot.
I think about how love has betrayed me.
How since I was a little girl I have loved love
But how since I started opening my heart up to men they have done nothing but
to the very best of their ability.
And so recently I have given up on the idea that I deserve true love
Because for so long I have not kissed the lips of men who loved me
But the lips of abusers, drug users, liars, thieves.

But then I kissed you.
And at first you stole my breath
You stopped my heart
And I was scared.
Because I have been beaten down and beaten up
But you felt different
You looked at me different
My heart told me
Maybe just one more chance before we give up
And you had all the potential to break me for good. 

And so my heart stopped
And I sank
I sank into your lips
I sank into your kiss
I felt my soul kind of sigh.

And I gave love just one more shot.
And it’s fucking terrifying
And everything feels backwards but in the most wonderful way.
And I love it.
And I’m starting to love my love for once. 
For I no longer kiss the lips of abusers
drug users
or thieves.

But of a man who looks at me like I set the sun in his sky
and who loves me with every inch of his being
just like I love him. 

I think about love a lot.
I think about our love.
And I think that I truly do love you
And I think I’d really like it
If you stuck around
And kept changing my mind about


I thought I found                                                         love
I thought I found                                                         peace
I thought I found                                                         light
I thought I found                                                         safety.

But he                                                                          ripped
And he                                                                         broke
And he                                                                         lied
And he                                                                         damaged.

I said no.
I said no more.
I said no one will
hurt me this way

E n o u g h.

No more                                                                       abuse
No more                                                                       hurt
No more                                                                       lies
No more                                                                       pain
Not from anyone
And definitely not from you.

I took the                                                                     abuse
I took the                                                                     chaos
I took the                                                                     darkness
I took the                                                                     fear
And I fucking threw it away.

E n o u g h.

- hj


Time is just a funny
A blessing & a curse.

Why is it
that there are days where life feels incredibly
There are days where the alarm goes off
and you lay in bed
wrestling with emotions, 
battling between responsibility and exhaustion. 
There are days that before you even start it, you want nothing in the world 
more than for it to be over.
And suddenly life feels too long.


How is it
that there are days when life feels too short?
You wake up
finally rested,
you roll over,
close your eyes,
and just breathe for once.
There are moments
days that should never end.
Time spent in the company of your favorite people,
laughing, loving, living.
Time spent lost in a crowd of strangers,
losing control, losing stress, losing it.
Time spent in the arms of someone you love more than anything,
time spent admiring the things you miss when you get older,
time spent living instead of just mindlessly existing,
pushing through the same bullshit every day.
That’s the time I want to live in,
that’s the time that makes me feel like life is too short.
And that’s what I will get myself to look forward to
when the mornings are bitter,
when the alarm makes me want to scream,
when the day hurts,
when breathing in itself seem unnatural and forced,

It’s harder than you think.



I feel like I’m always out of time
or running out of it.
There’s never a day with an hour
a minute, a second
to myself.

Everything is repetition.

Open your eyes.

Go through the day 
with a numbing pain
that makes time stand still;
yet it still feels like everything
is just rushing by.

Open your eyes.

The day is over.
The week, the month, the year.

Your life.

Close your eyes.



The fire scares me,
yet the burn,
the heat, is so familiar
it is so concrete
so real.
My eyes can’t take it anymore
they burn with anger for me, 
they burn with sadness for me.



In the chaos of noise I find a deafening silence.
In the loneliness of the crowded room, I find sudden solitude within myself.

And it is so goddamn desolate.



I met a girl;
she was hardly ever without a smile.
the envy seeped out of my pores,
what was her secret?
I thought she was perfect;
perfectly happy.

I know a girl;
she sees the stars for what they really are.
When others see
flickering fires,
she sees souls. She sees lost loved ones,
the flames of the people we’ve lost.

I’ve loved a girl;
every day has been an adventure.
sometimes she retreats to the past
but with so much hope for the future,
all I can do is
watch and learn.




I’ve often thought I’d found the most beautiful things in the world,
I thought I had found things I could stare at for the rest of my life.
Things like the sunrise & sunset,
The ocean kissing the shore,
Snow falling on the quiet ground,
The smallness of the world from an airplane window,
And the world of clouds when your miles up.
But taking off in an airplane, 
On a saturday afternoon,
I try to indulge myself in one of these things,
Only to turn and find that I was wrong
So wrong.
For watching a smile grow across your face,
The way your lips curl,
Your eyes lighten
Is certainly the most perfect thing

And I could spend my whole life looking.


I don’t know.

I guess there isn’t always an explanation, is there?

Sometimes you have to wing it, 

and assume that what you’re doing is right.

I’ve heard many people say, 

sometimes doing the right thing isn’t doing the right thing.

I don’t know.

I guess that’s why you have friends and family,

to show you, by example, what is right and what is wrong.

But you have to make mistakes, otherwise their failures are their failures;

not your own. You don’t always need a reason to wake up in the morning.

I don’t know.

I guess it helps, though, to have a reason for being.

Most days are usually spent doing what you must do.

Not doing what you want to do, what you feel is necessary

for your own sanity.

But you have to ask yourself, what is sanity?

I don’t know.

I guess we’ll find out.



Sometimes I wonder why

these words will never leave



My chest heaves with the intensity

of the need to release

the words

I know you can’t handle

the thought of.

The sight of.

The sound of.

Sometimes when I’m alone,

I wonder if you are too.

I wonder if you’re thinking

what I’m thinking.

Sometimes I can taste your lips

on my tongue.

I can feel your touch

on my skin.

Sometimes when I see photographs,

and think about the times we’ve had,

I wonder if you remember them 

the same way that I do.

Sometimes I think about when

we used to argue.

Why did we?

Sometimes I regret

being who I was 

when we




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