"When he says
He doesn’t love you anymore,
Roll your shoulders back
And look him in the eye
Even when it feels like your ribs
Are breaking inward, like spider legs.
When he digs up old aches
That he swore he forgave you for,
And ask him why he didn’t leave you sooner.
Ignore the way the words feel like sandpaper
Running all the way up your throat to your mouth.
When he blames you
For mistakes that wear his face,
Do not scream.
Do not cry.
Tell him that there are boys
Who would be proud to say they’d loved you.
Tell him that in two years
You won’t even remember his name
And don’t let him see the way you can taste your own lie.
When he leaves
Ignore the howling in your blood
And do not get up after him.
Not even to lock the door.
Do not, do not
Do not.
Smell his shirts when you box them up
To give them back.
Not one.
Swear off dating when you realize
You’re chasing ghosts that wear his smile.
It’s okay to cry over him.
It’s even okay to forgive him.
But do not go back to him.
If he did not know how to love you the first time,
He won’t know how to do it the next."

How To Pretend It Doesn’t Hurt, by Ashe Vernon  (via 1811181)

(Source: latenightcornerstore)


I will admit
that I know nothing about sacrifice,
and I know, I know, I know,
that it is hard to admit that you were right. It was hard
for the last month
to learn to love his friends again. To learn to listen.
To learn to use my mouth for kissing
other mouths. For kissing yours. And the floor
of my car is still sticky with syrup. And my mother
in the kitchen
heats up the chicken and gives me advice: “It is not right
to force your love on people who can’t take it.”

She makes it sound easy. I am on my knees
re-living high school. I fall off the bicycle.
My mother never told me what to do with this
empty love, bloody hands. I am in the bathroom washing them.
But what about the kisses? But what about the dreams, and the meaning
I always give them? But what about last month,
when I said I wanted him and he said “me too” and his mouth was shaped like he meant it?

It is hard to admit this: he didn’t mean it.

So I drop myself off at the bottom of the ocean. So I work on forgiving.
And your mouth is somewhere else,
and I am here, spinning in circles, trying not to wonder what it’s saying.
This is not what I thought life had promised me,
but maybe I should stop wondering. I am shrinking.

And I spread myself like butter across my bed.
I will not wonder
why you are not beside me.


Coming Clean; Hannah Beth Ragland  (via allmymetaphors)



I almost dropped my phone for this

worth it


{head in the clouds}