We could be
cuddled up
on that couch
where I learned
I was truly
and madly in love,
taking in bitter
cold with coffee
and kisses.
Instead,
I do not love
you anymore,
I do not see
you at all,
and surely
you don’t
remember
my kiss.
We could be
cuddled up
on that couch
where I learned
I was truly
and madly in love,
taking in bitter
cold with coffee
and kisses.
Instead,
I do not love
you anymore,
I do not see
you at all,
and surely
you don’t
remember
my kiss.
Two years later
and still either
you haven’t found
the words or do not
care to, while
I am still trying
to decide if this
is the right thing.
The blonde hair
that always tickled,
the blue eyes
that never had a clue
- things I swore
I never wanted
but truly just hated
because they did not
want me.
I think I loved her,
as much as I could
with all that I knew
of love in ten years time.
I did not know it then
but for all the jealousy
that I had for all the years,
I was most jealous
of the way she didn’t
want this at all.
Clumsy and unsure,
intoxicated with more
than just an impulse,
but with not a single
mistake. We’d be lying
if we said we didn’t
know - or at least
think - it would happen.
Better than anything
before, better than
everything before,
because being so close,
so soft, so together…
the comfort was something
I never believed in.
I will never tell him
nor could I ever tell you,
but that night, this time,
this is what will always
ring true in my memory.
This is the one
that has the pretense
for all of the others.
It wasn’t love,
it wasn’t planned,
but I have learned
how to let someone in,
how to believe in an
act so pure, how to finally
feel alive in my own skin,
and for that, I will always
crave.
Dear stranger,
Don’t listen to them. Don’t take yourself too seriously, but always take life seriously, always treat your beliefs with the utmost respect. Don’t waste time with wordy hellos, but don’t ever forget your goodbye’s. Love will break your heart - let it. It will try and make you jaded - love harder, love more, most importantly, love again. A soft smile and sweet eyes are never a bad thing. You can be strong without being hard, and you can be kind without being soft. When you have the choice (and you always do), kill them with kindness. Life will always be a challenge and your heart will always know the answer - learning to listen to it will be the biggest challenge of all. You can think you’re beautiful without being conceited - don’t let modesty lower your self-worth. And don’t let your self-worth diminish your modesty. Everyone hates their parents at one time or another - just try to remember that you can be a pain to deal with, too. When you just can’t win, find an escape: God, art, books, music, whatever. You are worth more than what middle school has taught you, and you love better than what every boy or girl has made you believe. You only get one body, treat it with kindness, make it something you are comfortable in. Grades matter, but intelligence matters more. Family matters, but don’t put up with anything that hurts your soul. Friends matter, and you’ll always know who the good ones are. You are more than your skin and bones and scars. Have a life you won’t shut up about it five years, ten years, thirty years, fifty years. Mostly for happiness, partially so your kids have a reason to be jealous of you. Don’t settle - strive. Love yourself whenever possible (it is always possible) and it will never matter who else does.
She goddamn knew
how I felt about his words,
yet here they are again,
cutting my ears, my soul,
my throat.
I can barely open
my mouth to breathe
and they are taking all
the air with their laughter,
their cackles.
He stands so smug,
like he knew he had
won them forever,
and I did not want
to believe him, but
the sting of the words
in my eyes told me
I must get used
to suffocating.
To think that the death of a stranger
that had nothing to do with me
would become my only regret.
Just the news alone
and his comment,
his reaching out,
so easily served
to me, yet I pushed
it away in the belief
that I should
not have had
to try.
I wish that I had.
I wish I listened
to even half of your
half-ass attempts,
but mostly I wish
I had given myself
the chance - given
you the chance -
to love. At least
to try.
“People walk right by,”
she says and I can hear
the tearing of her stem
and the dying of her petals.
It always the ones like her
- with meaning, with hope,
with beauty that whispers,
rather than yelling -
that leave the world
too soon.
But we need your color,
your roots,
we need the life you have
as much as you need
to have a life.
Anonymous asked: Your writing is exquisite.
Wow, thank you!! You totally didn’t have to be anon, this was so nice. Much appreciated :)
I am still so angry
at how a love like mine
could just wither away
while a boy with
too many thoughts
of his own simply laughed
at the tied together heart
presented to him, beating red.
I am so angry that love
was not enough
and has never been enough
and that I still do not know
the same feeling as I did
when our lips collided.
I am angry at the fact
that I have had good things
- great things - and still
have not felt even an ounce
of what you gave me.
I am furious at my heart
for wanting anything
concerned with you
and am furious at myself
for being so furious
I could cry.
I want to love again
with a fierceness that displaces
all of my anger,
but I fear I will never know
another February night
like ours.
You are not as fat
as those other girls
make you believe.
That boy will
never, ever
be speaking the truth.
You are so
very
beautiful.
Don’t let the world
make you hard.
Stay soft, be soft,
don’t let my own
hardness with my
own mother change
how soft we can be
with each other.
You are so good
and I am jealous
of how pure your
soul is and can
stay.
