I. Those of us born by water are never afraid enough of drowning. Bruises used to trophy my knees from my death-defying tree climb jumps. Growing up, my backyard was a forest of blackberry bushes. I learned early nothing sweet will come to you unthorned.
II. At twelve your body becomes a currency. So Jenny and I sat down and cut up all our clothes into nothing. That year I failed math class but knew the exact number of calories in a carrot stick. I learned early being desired goes hand in hand with hunger.
III. The last time I tried to scream I felt my father climbing up through my throat and into my mouth.
IV. There is a certain kind of girl who reads Lolita at fourteen and finds religion. I painted my eyes black and sucked barroom cherries to red my tongue. There was a boy who promised Judas really did love Jesus. I learned early every kiss and betrayal are up for interpretation.
V. I think he must have conferenced with my nightmares on exactly how to hurt me.
VI. He never broke my heart. He only turned it into a compass
that always points me back to him.
Clementine von Radics, In Defense of Loving Him (after Megan Falley)
(via clementinevonradics)
When you finally let go, it is like opening your front door and seeing yourself standing there again.
Welcome home, it’s been so long.
Tina Tran, The Art of Letting Go (via
larmoyante)
tylerknott:
The first moment they see
each other
they can read
their own trouble in each other’s eyes.
The feeling that
Love is not blind,
but
that it endures.
-Tyler Knott Gregson-
The First Moment They See Each Other Blackout Poem (by Tyler Knott Gregson)