RoseElephant copy.jpg
  • dearabi

The Write Kind of Wrong.

I used to carve my love in stone, Dotting my I’s with blood, and crossing my T’s with tears. Your hold – it bounded my heart squeezing the very life out of me, And my obsession for you left me spineless. The epic novels I once wrote about us turned into horror stories, Until there was nothing left but a fictional tale of the effort you used to make. Ever since then, I’ve had to dig deep. For something, anything, to keep the ink flowing and the story going. Searching through the archives of my mind, flipping through tattered pages of a relationship I hoped never to retell. Forcing myself to remember without regretting. You were the antagonizer I couldn’t bare to write off, And we were the story that had run its course, but I just couldn’t end. “You don’t write about love as much,” a friend of mine said. It’s not that I don’t love as much. I just haven’t found a story worth telling.

Recent Posts

See All

You.

I have this beautiful apartment, then realized that home is wherever you are. I get eight hours of sleep now, and just spend every waking moment thinking about you. I have an entire king bed to myself

Insecure.

I used to think you could spot an insecure man a mile away. Sometimes they were loud or arrogant. They bragged about what they've done or things they have. They're constantly flashing their money or d

Anger Management.

I want to be angry. With you. Angry because you couldn't show up for yourself and be better. You wouldn't try hard enough to take care of yourself and so you couldn't take care of me. I want to be so

  • White Facebook Icon
  • White Twitter Icon
  • White Instagram Icon

© 2020 I'll make you feel things.