Bitter/Sweet Language

Human Heart by Kimberly Lennox

Love....

You ever wanted to kill that person...

Like really kill that person. You had a plan and everything. I mean you wanted them to still have life afterwards but you though about it. You ever look at that person and you felt disgusted for a moment. Couldn't stand their habits and the way they acted...their fakeness, The way they ate and even their breathing got on your nerves jus ticking at your at your sanity. Cracking into your very psyche, you want to scream at them but all you could do was chew your food and roll your eyes.

You try to go on with your day and alll you could do was always find a fucking way to relate what's going on to that person. Even when you're angry at that person you thought of them. 

You ever find yourself safe in their arms, at home. When they leave you feel the warmth leave you. You can feel the shape of them still

You ever find yourself sniffing the clothes they left at your house. No one else smells anything but you do...and you love it for some reason [mad weird I know]

Sometimes your mind races with a thousand things to say and all you say is nothing.

You walk down the street and a bubble of laughter or smile comes across your face. You look like a damn jackass but you remember that stupid shit that happened awhile back and it showed on your face. 

You're doing nothing in particular and this wave of love hits you...wrings your soul and sways and pushes you to the point where it physically hurts. You look at them and you notice something about them you never did before....

and its beautiful

You lose track of time....ALL THE TIME

Forget about the consequences of your actions because a little more time with them was worth it.

Forgot about your responsibilities, talk about the future, imaginary money, and your perfect condo. Down to the bedsheets and what colored walls. 

You can't wait to better yourself....

 so you can shower them with the things they deserve in life

It's 2 in the morning. 

This is for everyone I love.  

Women wish to be loved not because they are pretty, or good, or well bred, or graceful, or intelligent, but because they are themselves.