Empty Bottles Full of Stories

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Empty Bottles Full of Stories Page 7

by r. h. Sin


  you, a mountain.

  do not let a world

  filled with criticism

  and judgment

  prevent you from being

  whatever you need to be

  don’t let the words

  from those who don’t matter

  corrupt your peace of mind

  do not allow them the power

  to force you into corners

  or uncomfortable spaces

  reserve and maintain the right

  to be happy despite

  all that’s happened

  take back your power

  and feel whatever it is

  you need to feel in order to survive

  do not be threatened by hills

  when you yourself are a mountain

  do not fear the rain

  when you yourself are a beautiful storm

  of chances and hope

  with so much confusion.

  Confused men are not worthy of your time. Their confusion is an insult to your existence. Why not have a partner who is sure about the way you make them feel and isn’t afraid to express it rather than be with a person who has grown content with pretending that they don’t want you? Claiming to miss you but never showing up. Claiming to love you but choosing to hurt your heart. Confused men are the muddy puddles of the earth; don’t let them stain your soul.

  how much longer.

  you’re just tired

  you’ve been brave

  you’ve never given up

  you keep fighting

  but you’re tired

  weary from all the arguments

  weary from all the forgiveness

  weary from all the second chances

  you’ve been providing

  you’re strong

  but you’re just tired

  of the type of love

  that seems to keep you down

  the type of feeling

  that isn’t love at all

  this heaviness that sits

  on your shoulders

  it makes you stronger

  but you’re just tired

  of trying to build a home

  on quicksand

  you’re tired

  but you’re powerful enough

  to let go

  you may be tired

  but you’re still strong enough

  to walk away

  you may be restless

  but you don’t deserve

  this nightmare

  you’re just tired

  you’ve been brave

  but it’s time to choose yourself

  because they’re no longer

  choosing you

  i know, i know.

  The modern era of love feels like hatred and happiness have become a mask we wear to hide the sadness that thrives in our heart. Honesty has become a lost art, and loyalty seems to have vanished right before our eyes. I’ve seen people fall victim to empty promises and apologies from liars. I’ve watched hearts become crushed under the weight of hoping for things that’ll never come. I know what it means to reach for unclean hands and expect something pure. I know how it feels to feel all the right things for the wrong people. Too many games being played, too many moments gone to waste. Energy and trust misplaced, invested into those who will never be worth it or match your own value. I know what it means to be hurt in this era, and this is why I’ll never judge a guarded heart.

  so many drinks.

  how many drinks

  until i forget

  all the things

  that haunt me

  while i’m sober

  this temporary high

  a moment of overcoming

  my lows

  only to be brought back down

  to a reality in which i hate

  i’ve tried lying to myself

  i’ve barhopped, i’ve stood

  in lines to get into clubs

  in hopes of running away

  from all this shit

  but it comes for me

  first thing in the morning

  and sticks to me

  like gum under a classroom desk

  a fucking mess i’ve been

  trying to win, giving in to sin

  i’ve gained so many vices

  pretending to love it

  but i don’t like this

  so many drinks

  but nothing changes

  i don’t want to be here

  i need to change this

  she, alone.

  she nursed her own wounds

  and as crazy as this may sound

  every time she’d fallen to the ground

  she picked up the pieces

  and carried herself on her shoulders

  she was nothing like they imagined

  she was more than they claimed

  she’d be

  she fought on her own

  she meant everything to herself

  she took care of her own needs

  the unstoppable force.

  she was no princess

  her distress didn’t need

  your attention

  she was a warrior

  fighting for herself

  and everything she deserved

  she refused to allow others

  the ability to control her narrative

  she produced and published her own story

  and there was nothing

  anyone could do to stop her

  072288.

  I don’t judge people for wanting to disappear. So many of us are hiding, looking for an exit, eager to leave this all behind. I’ve been there too, and there are times where I struggle with this feeling, but I’ve fallen in love with life every time I fall for you.

  so full.

  i saw a glimpse

  of everything

  i wanted to be

  when i looked

  into her eyes

  this is when i knew

  she was the moon

  to my darkened sky

  skhxxii.

  your lips made me forget

  my reason to be unhappy

  you kissed me

  and i lost that dreadful feeling

  3/6.

  stop apologizing to people

  who have no problem

  with hurting your soul

  all this confusion

  the madness of saying sorry

  for feeling things

  that you deserve to feel

  things that you have a right

  to express

  apologizing to keep them happy

  apologizing to keep people

  who no longer deserve

  to dwell within the walls

  of your heart

  you shouldn’t have to suppress

  your emotional truths

  for people who don’t

  give a fuck about you

  trust the moon.

  the moon sat outside her window

  like a lover waiting to be told

  the secrets that remained

  chained up in her heart

  golden, her existence.

  She was always amazing, she was nothing like you’d ever known. The way she smiled through the chaos, the way she held her own. Her soul was always divine, her heart concealed magic. Her entire existence was a constellation of stars burning the dark hue of the night sky. She was always this, but you could never see it. She had always been a poem that you failed to appreciate, and when you lost her, you lost a future filled with promise and progression. The lesson here is never chase copper w
hen the woman who loves you is golden.

  the ice is cracking.

  Life is too short to spend days on end dancing around the inconvenient truth. The romance you long for will never exist with this particular person. You’re chasing after a dream, avoiding a sickening reality. Your eyes have been closed while you wander upon thin ice, and it’s time that you wake up. It’s time to stop giving all of yourself to someone who gives nothing to you.

  last call.

  maybe she’s tired of the clubs

  maybe she’s tired of searching for light

  in the nightlife

  dancing around in the dark

  when she’d rather be at home

  with someone who feels like home

  maybe she’s tired of the drinks

  tired of getting lost in a bottle

  tired of losing herself

  in her pursuit of peace

  running away from all the things

  that haunt her

  she is powerful

  she is strong

  she keeps fighting

  she’s still standing

  but damn, she’s still tired

  ready for something new

  something better

  because this shit

  isn’t working anymore

  maybe she’s tired of the clubs . . .

  more what-ifs.

  What if I told you that I was here the whole damn time? Waiting to be seen, eager to hold and love you but you were too busy chasing someone who wasn’t me. Searching for love in a relationship with someone who would rather make you hate yourself. I was here the whole time, but you were distracted, wasting your energy on someone too weak to appreciate you. The person you chose didn’t deserve you. The person you wanted was keeping you from noticing me, and ultimately you missed a real shot at happiness. All these fucking what-ifs . . .

  All these missed opportunities to be loved

  Because you’d rather put trust in a liar . . .

  i wrote this for you.

  Your heart is aching, but you pose and smile in Instagram photos, pretending to have the time of your life. Deep down you’re hurting, trying things and nothing’s working, but you’ve grown accustomed to acting like everything is perfect. You’re worth it, maybe you just forgot. Maybe you’re in like or in love with someone who treats you like you’re not. Maybe your heart has fallen into hands too weak to hold it. Maybe you are too proud, too bold, too embarrassed to show it. Your soul aches beneath the weight of all this emotional pain. Your soul continues to crack as you continue to act as if everything is okay, but nothing is okay and most of what is wrong is now buried beneath the lies you tell yourself and others.

  I just wish you could see yourself in the light, but you’re used to this, being left in the dark. Standing in the middle of chaos, trying your hardest to keep it together. Clinging to that relationship that should end, still hoping for a forever. You deserve so much more, and deep down you know this. Open your eyes, stand up, please focus. Understand each and every word. You are the reason I wrote this.

  exit here.

  All I wanted was for you to try. I was always asking for too much whenever I was asking you. Being made to feel needy by someone who didn’t need me. Believe me, I’ve gone back and forth with myself over all of this. Plotting ways to walk away in hopes of saving my own heart. Ripped apart by my own inability to see a life without you. Blind while with you, damp tissues next to the bed, I play back all the fucked-up things you said. Hurting my head while overthinking, sinking into a pit of all the shit I should forget. My greatest regret is that I didn’t leave sooner, couldn’t leave sooner. I let you trample upon my dreams, tearing me at the seams. Your love was never what it seemed or what you made it out to be. I believed lies wrapped in paper labeled “truth.” My life filled with drama the moment I gave my heart to you. Emotional abuse and plenty of excuses, hanging on your every word like several criminals in nooses. And now my soul is screaming, can you hear it? Will you listen? I can’t take this shit anymore, I found the door, fuck it, I’m finished.

  the gift index.

  2/1.

  2/19.

  2/20.

  2/21.

  3/6.

  22 minutes in a neon room.

  43 degrees.

  072288.

  315360000.

  a city being heard.

  alone near you.

  always and over again.

  a nightly regret.

  anxious.

  a purple sky and glowing moon.

  a silent awakening.

  awake, this nightmare.

  connection means more.

  drunk beneath a pale moon.

  effort meant nothing.

  ever-evolving.

  exit here.

  Feb 22nd.

  forever never comes.

  from 15.

  golden, her existence.

  gone by daylight.

  how much longer.

  i know, i know.

  i wrote this for you.

  lack of lessons.

  last call.

  LAX.

  lies told to my reflection.

  like you, this moment.

  ludicrum 1.

  ludicrum 2.

  ludicrum 3.

  ludicrum 4.

  ludicrum 5.

  ludicrum 6.

  ludicrum 7.

  ludicrum 8.

  ludicrum 9.

  ludicrum 10.

  ludicrum 11.

  ludicrum 12.

  ludicrum 13.

  ludicrum 14.

  ludicrum 15.

  ludicrum 16.

  ludicrum 17.

  ludicrum 18.

  ludicrum 19.

  more what-ifs.

  needed me.

  oh well.

  one day too late.

  one hell of a midnight.

  only a climax, nothing more.

  on my second glass of whiskey.

  rare, not many.

  relating through sex.

  save me not.

  she, alone.

  sinking ships.

  skhxxii.

  so full.

  so many drinks.

  something to mentally consume.

  tend to your devices.

  the beginning of another end.

  the first shot.

  the ice is cracking.

  the painful pursuit.

  the sad sister.

  the second shot.

  the sleeping city.

  the third shot.

  the unstoppable force.

  this almost endless journey.

  this, still vivid.

  too early, the heartache.

  took time.

  truly transformative.

  trust the moon.

  wasted years 2005.

  wasted years 2014.

  with so much confusion.

  you, a mountain.

  you need to feel.

  young and eager.

  you wear the sadness.

  empty bottles full of stories

  copyright © 2019 by Robert M. Drake and r.h. Sin. Illustration copyright © 2019 by Hannah Olson. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of reprints in the context of reviews.

  Andrews McMeel Publishing

  a division of Andrews McMeel Universal

  1130 Walnut Street, Kansas City, Missouri 64106

  www.andrewsmcmeel.com

  ISBN: 978-1-5248-5204-7

  Library of Congress Control Number: 201895060
2

  Editor: Patty Rice

  Designer/Art Director: Diane Marsh

  Production Editor: Amy Strassner

  Production Manager: Cliff Koehler

  Digital Production: Kristen Minter

  Cover illustration by Hannah Olson

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