Someone holds you for the first time in a long time and you are bound to think it is true love. The thing that it takes years to learn is that isn’t anything close to love. Love happens when they aren’t holding you.
It happens when they are washing dishes while whistling pop songs, or chewing on the end of a pen doing the crossword, or falling asleep in a chair reading a book. It is stories told in the dark, at 3 AM with your eyes closed. It is hating the way they say your name when you are fighting, how they tell you everything can be fixed when you are convinced it can’t.
Love is what happens when you aren’t touching but your heart still swells for them like a wave in a storm. Love is what happens during all the moments you blink.
If we were in outer space, I’d run laps around Jupiter if it meant that I might possibly come across you. I’d throw moon rocks at your window, hoping you would step out for a few seconds.
And while you’re gazing at the nebula from afar, I know that it may seem like nothing more than a cloud of dust and other ambiguous elements. But soon enough, we’ll form enough stars to pierce light into the darkness.
I may only be a mere speck of stardust, but if you let me glide through the anatomy of your orbit, I’ll light a fire inside of you that would make even the sun envious.
I know that the universe is argued to be the “totality of existence”, but I’m willing to prove otherwise if you grant me the privilege of getting lost in your constellation.
And come to think of it, I don’t know a damn thing about astronomy, but by the way you looked at me, I could have sworn that our galaxies have collided in another lifetime.
some girls do a messy ponytail and look like magical fucking fairy princesses
i do a messy ponytail and i look like a goddamn founding father
that’s fucking badass and if anyone tells you differently you should declare independence from their stupid ass
tall boys with dark hair and shy smiles who smell good and have great tastes in music are very important ok
Look like the innocent flower,
But be the serpent under it.
January 16th 2013
Dear “you,” that’s what I’ve been referring to you in the poems I write at 3 in the morning. I still can’t say your name. I hope you know that I stopped breathing when you told me you didn’t love me anymore. I hope you know that your words could burn holes through my skin. You could make stars fall from the sky. You could kill me. You could end the world with the way you speak. I hope you come back soon. I’m starting to get lightheaded. I miss you I miss you. I’m so sorry.
February 3rd 2013
my letter must’ve gotten lost in the mail and that’s why you haven’t responded. That’s what I keep telling myself but I know it’s not true. I know you read it. I’ve seen it a million times in my head. You just got home from school and you’re sitting on your bed listening to The Strokes, ignoring the fact that they were my favorite band, and your mother comes upstairs and hands you my letter and you leave it on your bedside table, the one that you hide your cigarettes in, and you glance over at it a few times before you finally decide to read it. and your eyes skim over at it and your head starts to hurt a little, but not enough to make a difference, not enough to make you love me again. I wish you would write back. I’m tired of writing letters to a ghost.
April 19th 2013
You called me last night. Oh god. Your voice. I missed your voice. You were slurring your words when you asked how I’ve been and I tried to keep my hands from shaking. I swear to god when you told me you missed me I felt my heart slam into my ribs. I almost passed out. I think I’m going crazy. I still love you. Every part of me still loves you. Your name is always stuck in my throat and I keep your smile under my fingertips and I can’t forget you. I tried to swallow pills to get you out but I just got dizzy. I tried to wash my hands with vodka but it didn’t work.
September 4th 2013
I kissed a boy last night. He tasted like sugar and he grabbed my hips and I liked it a lot. I don’t miss you anymore.
September 5th 2013
I still miss you like crazy.
October 17th 2013
My mom told me to stop writing to you. She says I’ll never move on if I’ve always got you on the tip of my tongue and I’m spending too much on stamps. I don’t want to taste you anymore so this is my last letter.
October 17th 2013
November 9th 2013
I was over you until I held hands with the boy who lives down the street and tasted glass in my mouth. Jesus fuck you’re in my veins and bleeding out can’t fix me. I’ve tried.
January 16th 2014
I can say your name now.