There are two kinds of love…in the safe kind you look for someone who’s exactly like you. It’s what most folks settle for. But then there’s the other kind of love. Everyone’s born with a ragged edge, and some folks crave that piece that’s a perfect fit. You’ll search for it forever, if you have to. And if you’re lucky enough to find it, it looks so right, you start to tear at your own seams, thinking, maybe I could look just as perfect. But then, of course, when you try to get close to their other half, you don’t fit anymore. That kind of love…you come out of it a different person than you were when you started.
When he decides he doesn’t love you anymore,
here is what you do: Move on quietly. Love yourself
You’ve got to use it, the pain. Use it as fuel to move past the torment, to the light at the end of the tunnel.
you expect rain.
— Nayyirah Waheed (via blksol
Just let it be. You may as well. Everything moves in and out at its own time. You have no control. You never did, you never will.
You will always run away with her. You will always lose her. You will always be a fool. You have already done all of this and will do it again.
Oh god, I would kill
to be your sun, moon and stars;
Everything you need.
the poems, they are falling out of me like rain. they are so bold. so dangerous. so uncomfortable and unsettling my eyes can’t digest them. some are so dirty. so inappropriate. so right.
You, who takes oxygen from the universe,
and gives back carbon dioxide in return.
You, who basks in sunshine at seven in the morning,
and solidifies your bones with it.
You, whose parts are organs and tissues and cells and elements and molecules and stars
One day, you will return the dust you’ve borrowed from this old, old universe.
But until then,
You are a piece of this moving everything.
And everything is not everything without you.
Fall in love with someone who wants you, who waits for you. Who understands you even in the madness; someone who helps you, and guides you, someone who is your support, your hope. Fall in love with someone who talks with you after a fight. Fall in love with someone who misses you and wants to be with you. Do not fall in love only with a body or with a face; or with the idea of being in love.
What doesn’t kill you
ruins your lungs
dries out all your tears
leaves you lying awake at 4 in the morning
wishing you weren’t alive.
Your early 20s are your trying years—
you’ll fuck up the most
but you’ll grow the most
and while you’re trying to do “this”,
you’re trying to be “that”.
Just know that it’ll all make sense later on,
maybe not now or anytime soon,
but it will.
Your early 20’s are your trying years—
you’ll try too hard and still lose.
You’ll lose people you never thought of losing,
you’ll lose people who swore they wouldn’t ever
stop loving you,
you’ll lose parts of yourself that you’ll never get back.
You’re just going to be a big fat loser.
I wish I could be more poetic about it
but after awhile, even poetry will make you
roll your eyes.