Here’s what our parents never taught us:
You will stay up on your rooftop until sunlight peels away the husk of the moon,
chainsmoking cigarettes and reading Baudelaire, and
you will learn that you only ever want to fall in love with someone
who will stay up to watch the sun rise with you.
You will fall in love with train rides, and sooner or later you will
realize that nowhere seems like home anymore.
A woman will kiss you and you’ll think her lips are two petals
rubbing against your mouth.
You will not tell anyone that you liked it.
It is beautiful to love humans in a world where love is a metaphor for lust.
You can leave if you want, with only your skin as a carry-on.
All you need is a twenty in your pocket and a bus ticket.
All you need is someone on the other end of the map, thinking about the supple
curves of your body, to guide you to a home that stretches out for miles
and miles on end.
You will lie to everyone you love.
They will love you anyways.
One day you’ll wake up and realize that you are too big for your own skin.
Don’t be afraid.
Your body is a house where the shutters blow in and out
against the windowpane.
You are a hurricane-prone area.
The glass will break through often.
But it’s okay. I promise.
a stranger once told you that the breeze
here is something worth writing poems about.
why are people generally so self centered? and why do I not carry this trait?* like.. you can’t have a conversation with most people without them relating it back to something about them. It’s impossible, because they don’t know how to converse unless they can relate to. And that’s when you know that’s all they’re listening for.. a similarity, a segway, anything to cue their turn to speak. It’s like listening is this alien concept. idk.
that, and like, when you feel terrible about something and the person affected makes sure they bring it up a hundred fucking times. Like yes, keep fucking reminding me. Keep telling me all of the things that could have been but isn’t because I can’t. Fucking hell. This is why I’m so narcissistic. I just want someone who knows me because they fucking are me.
*Not saying I don’t express this trait, its just non existent when i actually give a shit about someone, by courtesy.
I fucking hate it when I’m laughing at some dumb text post on tumblr because people next to me are all like hey what ya laughing at and I literally never know wtf I can say to them without sounding like some disillusioned homicidal maniac that has lost complete touch with reality
Hey you on the computer,
Remember to blink more while you’re blogging shiz
Your eyes will be thankful.
While we’re at it, stretch that back of yours
Feels good, huh?
fuck, i needed this haha