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The blade in my back is worth 3 years of memories.



I'm going to put this simply, bluntly and first.

I miss you.

And even though it was me who made this choice, even though I know you're probably breathing better knowing that I'm not around to remind you of how far apart we've become, sometimes I find myself with a new dagger of memories stuck between my shoulder blades. I relive everything over again every time I touch the hilt. I rev myself up for the action of pulling it out of my body once and for all, but... Mm.

So I walk around with my head held high and a smile plastered on my face. When I flip my hair, people don't notice my wounds or the blade stuck in my back - none of them ever look too closely. And if they did I'd want them to believe I don't pull it out because it's better not to - because it'll damage too many nerves or precious, vital organs.

(But in reality it's because I'm too scared and I'm not ready to let go of the time I invested in us. In you.)

+ + +

Sometimes, our brains work quite unfairly. And since mine wouldn't let me forget what today is - was - used to be, I figured, well, I may as well write about it.

Thank you for reading. <3

xx Nicole Rose

Comments

  1. I absolutely love the way you worded this. Your blog never ceases to amaze me!
    I love your blog, and maybe sometime you can come check out mine :)
    -Lauren
    lovingourcreator.blogspot.com

    ReplyDelete
  2. perfection. this describes how i was feeling for a little today. like i said, perfect <3

    ReplyDelete
  3. Urgh, I've abseloutely just been feeling this lately >.<

    ReplyDelete
  4. This was lovely <3
    Kaci x
    kacistevens.blogspot.co.uk

    ReplyDelete
  5. Your writings make me so emotional, darling. Thank you.

    ReplyDelete

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All comments I receive are cherished for many hours after reading them. Thank you for taking the time to type something to me.

xx Nicole Rose

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"it's complete"

[ photo via pinterest ]

writing.

exhaling words onto paper
inhaling the smell of ink
scribbling furiously
shoulders tensing

the pencil stops
dead in its tracks
words are hard
writing ceases

days pass by
no words are exhaled
no ink is inhaled
the author is taking a break

dreams occur
inspiration is sparked
writing begins again
and it doesn't stop

"it's complete"
two words
that mean
so much

sentences build paragraphs
that build chapters
that build a book
that build a lesson, a story

my lesson to you is || don't ever give up

thanks for reading. <3 xoxo, Rose
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