*Freedom* posted a quote
April 23, 2017 12:34pm EDT
"lets be realistic," he said with a scoff.I was being realistic. Yes, my reality was to spend the rest of my life with you.Yes, my reality was to grasp your face and connect our lips in a white dress.Yes, my reality was to hold your hand as my fingers dug within your flesh as the doctors yelled for me to push.Yes, my reality was to help you wash your gray short hair and tease each other about our wrinkles.Yes, my reality was to stare at grandchildren as we reminisced about our lives.You were my reality, and I was being realistic."you're right," I mumbled in agreement, "i need to be realistic."I was being realistic.
☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾ You ask my why all of my writing sounds sad, but you don't understand the way it manifests. The way my words are strung fairy lights, in an empty house at midnight, trying to make all of the dark edges beautiful again. ☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾
i. smear your lips in blood, dust your eyelids with stars ii. hang rubies around your neck, wear a n.ude leather dress iii. kiss him hard, make him groan iv. rip him apart, muscle from bone v. breathe in, breathe out vi. begin step one AND THEY SAID APHRODITE WAS SOFT
☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾ Call me crazy. Call the universe cruel. Call my mother on the phone, with an apology she’ll never believe. Call me soulmate, I never believed in them anyway. Call to ask how I’m doing. Call for all of your kitchen dances and hazey car kisses back. Call my name in your sleep, call it when you unravel. ☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾
This letter is to you. The you that's had a rough week. The you that seems to be under constant storm clouds. The you that feels invisible. The you that doesn't know how much longer you can hold on. The you that has lost faith. The you that always blames yourself for everything that goes wrong. To you. You are incredible. You make this world a little bit more wonderful. You have so much potential and so many things left to do. You have time. Better things are coming your way, so please hang in there. You can do it.
I lose people, and amid the tsunamis of grief and sadness that follow, I remind myself, when finally chaos tears dissolve and the aftermath of thoughts is allowed: “Silly child, you should know better than to love anyone this much by now, every time you have loved this hard and this much, you know it will be wrenched away from you somehow.” @ enrikute
She was beautiful, But not in the beautiful ways you might like to think so She did not have hair that dripped gold Her eyes were not the color of the cold sea Her smile was crooked and bent Her lips were chapped and thin She did not have a gentle laugh Nor did she speak humble thoughts But she was beautiful In the way wind dances in hair And in the way shy lovers hold hands She was beautiful in the way of Morning air And black coffee And the love poems That live in each broken heart Spilling red oil, into blue lungs Suffocating happiness right out of its shell And she was beautiful Because she refused to taste sadness Even when that was the only thing she had left to eat.