He says ‘No, you are beautiful.’
I wonder why I cannot be both.
that you
make me
weak in the knees
but
to be quite upfront
and completely
truthful
you
make my body
forget
it has knees
at all.
(Source: weatherbeatensoul, via weaverofstars)
| PermalinkI want to be a big cat kind of girl, the stretch and the lean. I want to be take back the city, and paint the town red, I want to be the heat beneath your eyelashes, the pool of sweat at your back on a summer day, I want to be the way sussurous sounds when it leaves your mouth like a gas leak, like shisha smoke sprawling out of open lips, I want to be the pulse on your throat girl, the hitch of your breath girl, that languid, that sinuous, that electric, that girl.
suddenly wild like a little monsoon. She might forget her curse just long enough to get careless and let it come true. She might kill everyone she loves.
oh thank you, i love you!
Things started to get hard for you baby, you became a problem to be solved, you were set on fire and thrown around and burned out
now they’re clutching your ashes and sighing over your enigma,
they read your diary and they put your in shoes you hadn’t even seen let alone owned
they took pictures of you and made you sadder and thinner, they turned you into a deer, they turned you into Bambi and laughed when you tried to walk, harder when you fell
and the boys, oh the boys, they love you now that you’re broken
they adore you now you’ve lost yourself and your footing
they want your body and your breasts and your hips but more
your mind is a chest cavity that got pulled apart in war and you’re hollowed out like an easter egg and now
baby, they want to live in you, make a home out of the place where your aspirations were, put preachers in your spaces, put sex in your spaces, put questions in your spaces
because you are an animated doll, you’re sad like cancer, deflated and heaped up, you’re diabetic sugar the kind that doesn’t taste quite right
you’re looked at and torn up and looking for ways to kill your lungs and your liver
and they’ll cradle you in their arms, or they’ll see you across the street leaning against a lightpole, arms dragged around yourself, shaking in the breeze and they’ll say
‘that girl, she’s sad and she’s so beautiful.’
but you are destruction, you are an avalanche, you are freak weather and burned out trees there is nothing beautiful about the sad in you, there is nothing lovely about the hollow
I smell like petals.
I taste like ash.Even in my metaphors,
I am not whole.
(via howitzerliterarysociety)
1. There will be several days that you daydream about stepping in front of a city bus. Don’t. It will not be beautiful. It will not be brave. It will be selfish. It will be broken. Your mother will cry.
2. Don’t write for him. Write for you. Write for others like you. Write so the girl that thinks about stepping in front of public transportation doesn’t. Don’t be selfish.
3. When you will yourself to sleep and it doesn’t come- get up. It doesn’t matter that it’s 3 am. There will be other 3 am’s. Take a shower. Take two. Wash him out of your hair. Write a poem. Read the same book you’ve read 202 times again. The 203rd time might tell you something different. Don’t stay in bed- you will think about the bus again.
4. Don’t kiss him because he’s broken. Don’t kiss him because his laughter never reaches his eyes. Don’t try and fix him. Fix yourself first. Be selfish. He can’t save you.
5. Date yourself. Take yourself out to eat. Don’t share your popcorn at the movies with anyone. Stroll around an art museum alone. Fall in love with canvases. Fall in love with yourself.
6. Dress up and wear red lipstick and get drunk with your friends. They’re the ones that will pick you up. Don’t kiss him. Or him. Don’t fall asleep on strange couches with strange boys. When his hand slides up your dress walk away. Hit him. Don’t kiss him. He can’t save you.
7. Get another tattoo. Get five more. Get another hole in your ear. Don’t listen to your dad. You will still be able to get a job. Did you really want to be employed by someone like your father? Haven’t you had enough of judgmental old white men anyway? Get fuck you tattooed in tiny letters on your hip.
8. When you feel the yearning for a new city- start over. Take 200 bucks and a three suitcases. Work anywhere that will have you. Meet strange people and forget your name. Call yourself Ruby. No one will know the difference. Remember to call your mother. Don’t be selfish. Come home when you find yourself in the strangers and the small one bedroom apartment.
9. Don’t whisper evil things into your own ear. Other people are going to shout them at you. Be your own hero. Keep a sword on your key ring.
10. Don’t step in front of a city bus. It will not be beautiful. Live. Stay up all night with a boy that promises you everything and means it. Live. See shitty local bands with a friend. Wear a different band’s t-shirt. No one will care. Live. Have a baby girl with tiny fingers and tiny toes someday. Pour love into her until it’s overflowing. Live. Wake up. Staying in bed all day is not poetic.
Live. Live.
Live.
Do you hear that? It’s me. It’s your life. Wake up.
My heart is tiny
the size of a fist
I am beginning to worry about all the people I have living inside of there
and whether if I add just one more
I’ll take them out with me when I go.
That’s wonderful! Wow! I can’t believe you’ve stuck with me for so long. I’m glad you think my writing has grown, I hope that it has too. And just a little over 5K :)
I just took a spider from the bath and put him into the garden because I didn’t want him to die and my baby nephew is incredibly upset at me now. I said he was going back to his family he said ‘but I’M his family’ and it’s the sweetest thing.
hello, i reached a level of followers that i never dreamed of on this site and i wanted to say that i am incredibly appreciative of all the support and the kindness and the lovely messages and i love y’all very much for what you’ve given me
