If you realized how beautiful you are, you would fall at your own feet.
I am a brutally soft woman.
Don’t be so vain to think that you ruined me, that you wrecked me, destroyed me. I am the only one who has the power to do that. I loved you, and I ruined myself, I wrecked myself, I destroyed myself. And I will keep doing so for as long as I am breathing.
Maybe you just have to live for the small things, like being called pretty or someone picking up the pen you dropped or laughing so hard that your stomach hurts. Maybe that’s all that really matters at the end of the day.
Don’t you do that. Don’t you look at what I had for you and call it weak. Not when you were the one afraid of it.
stay away from people who make you feel like you are hard to love
I will tell you what I am feeling:
the back of my knee
desires your tongue, my earlobe
your teeth, my lips your teeth,
my nipples your lips,
my waist your palms, my clit
your rough chin,
my ass your fingers,
my shoulder blades your fingernails,
my feet your toes, my inner thighs
your hips, my heart
Sweet thing —
this poem what you’ve really wanted from the start.
Babe, there aren’t any butterflies. It’s not what they said. There aren’t even any baby moths. This is how I knew: I would have walked through a crowded building to get to you and that’s a big deal for me. I would have asked the waiter for ketchup if you’d wanted it. I knew because I let you carry my weight on your thighs and didn’t worry about being too heavy for you. There were scores of matches set right under the left side of my body and when you touched my skin every single one of those burned right up. It was as simple as that. If you called me and said “hey, I’m going to be cleaning the shower today, do you wanna hang out with me whilst I do that?” I’d say “hell yeah” because I could sit with you and watch re-runs of 1994 World Cup games. I could watch you spring clean your entire apartment and be as happy as pie. That’s how I knew.
Break my heart? Is that what you just said? I have news for you; you didn’t break my heart. My heart’s fine. My heart’s in the best shape of its life. You know what you did to me? You took an AK-47 and blew my soul open.
I have noticed that if you look carefully at people’s eyes the first five seconds they look at you, the truth of their feelings will shine through for just an instant before it flickers away.
The only obsession everyone wants: ‘love.’ People think that in falling in love they make themselves whole? The Platonic union of souls? I think otherwise. I think you’re whole before you begin. And the love fractures you. You’re whole, and then you’re cracked open.