Come back, baby, I never really loved him
Somewhere along the line, I fell in love with the idea of tragedy, the idea that I was destined to live a tragic life.
Angela. 17. I like words & not much else.
Anonymous said: "You know, sometimes I just feel so empty at night, and then when I start to think of at least meeting you, I get calmed down. I feel complete. I know it's stupid to say I'm in love, but I'm sure it's not impossible. You're so perfect that I can't see myself with anyone else anymore. It's dangerous, but I think I like risking it now. It will all probably destroy me in a cruel way, but you're worth it." do you already know who's this?
From the first Monday of this year, I have been stuck in the business of heartbreak.
I have tried to imagine my life shaped
without your hand. And the color of grass on the side of the highway
is sometimes so bright that I cannot look away. My car sways
and swerves from its lane. And you are the same way.
No one ever means to hurt me – I know this
to be true. But people still do. And though there is an inherent kindness
running in the veins of everyone I kiss, I am still often a poison.
Oh you, I cannot blame you
or the crumbs, as I peel the crust from my sandwich.
Instead I make a running list
of the days I have made it through without thinking too often of you.
And they are few and far between. And you did not mean
to hurt me, but you did. My first love. My first kick
to the gut. I imagine I ran out of luck
and into your arms. On Thursday, I revisit the place
where we had our first kiss – I think,
at least the ocean reinvents
itself every day. And tides come in and they wash away.
Today I deleted your number from my phone -
you are not bad. You were not wrong. But like the ocean,
I am reinventing the art of existing.
And next time I fall in love, I’ll try not to move so quickly.
Glass Vase Feelings
I’m glad you exist but I wish you existed closer to me.
I guess this is what seventeen tastes like — burning candles and the feeling that I can’t do anything right.
Salome dances her dance of the seven veils,
The men all eye her like wolves on the hunt, this beautiful girl
finally undressing for them. Finally they can see her
exactly as they want to.
The first veil drops.
In 2007, Kim Kardashian’s ex-boyfriend
released their sex tape against her will.
Kim Kardashian, rather than hide in shame
Used the publicity to promote her own career.
Salome moves like a dream half-remembered.
Salome dances like a siren song. All the men ache
to see the hot sugar of her hip bones.
The second veil drops.
In 2014, Kim Kardashian walks down the aisle
As the whole world watches. If only all of us
were so successful in our revenge.
If only all of us stood in our Louboutin heels
on the backs of the men who betray us,
surveying the world we created for ourselves.
The third veil drops.
Kim Kardashian knows exactly what you think of her.
She presses the cloth tighter against her skin
Her smile is a promise she never intends to keep
We can almost see all of her.
Salome shows us her body
but never her eyes.
The fourth veil is dropping.
The four things most recently tweeted at Kim Kardashian were
@KimKardashian Suck My Dick
@Kim Kardashian Can I Meet Kanye?
@KimKardashian Please Fuck Me
@KimKardashian I Love You. I Love You.
Women are told to keep their legs shut.
Women are told to keep their mouths shut.
Some women are kept silent for so long,
They become experts in the silent theft of power.
The fifth veil has dropped.
Kim Kardashian made $12 million dollars this year
Yesterday, uncountable men in their miserable jobs,
told their miserable friends that Kim was a “dumb whore”
Kim Kardashian will never learn their names.
The sixth veil has dropped.
The seventh veil has dropped.
And Salome sat beside King Herod. And he swore unto her
“Whatsoever thou shalt ask of me, I will give to thee
unto the half of my kingdom”
And she smiled, and said
“Bring me the head of John The Baptist.
Punish the man who hurt me”
written by Clementine von Radics (via theloneluftmensch)
You forget about how empty you feel until you are surprised that your body still spill out blood.
On your rainiest days, it is impossible to remember that flowers still grow from the mud.
written by Sigmund Freud
I want you to know that I don’t care anymore… I don’t think I ever did.
Come on, skinny love, just last the year.