It wasn’t just that I was leaving.
(For the 2:40 bus. For reasons thick in the air.
For reasons that lived beneath the house.
Forever this time)
It wasn’t just that he said it,
(It was the way he said it.
Standing in the doorway, his mouth a thin
clothesline, eyes like two bloodless sunsets
It wasn’t that I didn’t say it back
(Couldn’t soothe him one last time.
Wasn’t that girl anymore. Had a bus to catch. Away, away.)
It wasn’t that I didn’t,
(Though I had stopped breathing his name.
Stopped worshipping his mouth. Didn’t know yet I still had years
before I stopped dreaming in his voice)
It was the way he knew
I would not say it
(Knew I hated him
for his weakness. Knew his heart
disgusted me. Knew I had caught a butterfly
only to rub it with my hands. Remove the resin.
Leave it winged and without flight)
girls are amazing i just watched my friend change 8 times before picking an outfit you girls are so dedicated to looking good i can’t believe there are men out there sitting in their cum stained sweatpants trying to tell you what you’re allowed to wear
“Baths and love are like the same thing.
You fill the tub with water and you submerge yourself into it.
You get so relaxed that you fall asleep. You know you might drown but you still fall.
Just like love. You fill yourself with love and you let yourself go.
You get so happy that you fall in love.
You know you might get broken but you still fall.”—(via routine-chaos)
“I do all the things you used to hate. I dye my hair colors that make the church ladies stare. I go to bed without dinner and subside entirely on air. I make tea and pour cream in after. I give up reading. I give up The Beatles. I never eat another plate of scrambled eggs. I shape myself into someone you would dislike. My speech sharpens. My teeth turn to fangs. I let go of the softness that drew you to me. My fingernails itch to become claws and I don’t fight it. This is what it takes to survive. I let people into my bed that I would have walked right past with you. He is sad-eyed and needs my flimsy paper wrists to support him. I pour every late night with you into him, until he says, ‘I love you, I love you’ and I say, ‘Shh, you’ll ruin the fun.’ I do what it takes to forget you, and at the end, have more bruises than the ones I started with, but I can finally look at a sunset and not feel anything at all.”—I Practice Death To Forget You | Lora Mathis (via lora-mathis)
“I keep waking up & expecting
blood on my hands, because
each night I fight my way through
another nightmare of your lips
against another set than mine.
My heart feels like it’s on fire
whenever we make love & I am
trying to learn how to trust again.
I am trying to let it go, let it go, let it go,
learn something from the way the wind
takes everything with it. I am trying
to learn how to breathe easier underneath
your palms. I am trying not to see her
in your skin, but there’s a thunderstorm
of reminders in my chest & I am trying
my best not to cower from the lightening
when it strikes. You are sunshine, you are
the cool breeze against my face, but you
have to understand how you burnt me
& I promise that I forgive you, but it leaves me
grasping with the lesson of how to forget
& I hope more than anything that you will learn
something, too, that you’ll learn how to patient with
my bruised accusations as I heal from this.”—Moriah Pearson (mooneyedandglowing)
Fool me once shame on you.
Fool me twice shame on me.
But what do they say
when you’re fooled four times
and somehow you’re still surprised-
somehow you’re still crying
at 3 in the morning
and wishing you could take
every word you ever said
“I don’t give a shit about grand gestures or flowers at my door, I just want your teeth across my neck and my lips pressed to the small of your back, I want your stupid fucking sense of humour making me laugh at 4am when I have to be up at 6.”—(via ruby-moon)
“Object permanence. Not seeing
things doesn’t mean they don’t
exist. The un-development of
object permanence is why babies
cry when their mothers leave the
room - because to them, they
have just lost their moms. This is
the same reason your month-long
silences in assurances that you love
me leave me in suffocating anxiety.
I have not developed the knowledge
that love can continue unspoken.
In my past, every time love left the
room, it never came back.”—anne, Love Permanence (via anneisrestless)