I’m so unphotogenic what am I going to do when I’m famous
one saturday, i won’t have anywhere to go.
at 9:07, i’ll find you next to me
kiss your forehead
and go back to sleep
one saturday, i’ll make a slow breakfast.
while you’re in the shower,
i’m making the coffee
and you’re slipping your arms around me
one saturday, we’ll be together.
wandering farmers markets
snapping pictures of each other,
one saturday, ill go to sleep.
knowing that life can’t get better
that i’m not dreaming
that i’m finally home.
I hate when you’re like “fuck it’s so hot” and someone’s like “well why don’t you take your jacket off?” Like bitch no…this is my outfit
no cough syrup
you are not ‘grape flavoured’
have you ever tasted a grape
you taste like death and the tears of small children
not fucking grape
wow what a surprise another cis-gendered white upper-middle class american male telling someone what they can and cannot identify as. why don’t you go fuck yourself
I am not the first person you loved.
You are not the first person I looked at with a mouthful of forevers.
We have both known loss like the sharp edges of a knife. We have both lived with lips more scar tissue than skin.
Our love came unannounced in the middle of the night.
Our love came when we’d given up on asking love to come.
I think that has to be part of its miracle.
This is how we heal.
I will kiss you like forgiveness. You will hold me like I’m hope. Our arms will bandage and we will press promises between us like flowers in a book. I will write sonnets to the salt of sweat on your skin. I will write novels to the scar of your nose. I will write a dictionary of all the words I have used trying to describe the way it feels to have finally, finally found you.
And I will not be afraid of your scars.
I know sometimes it’s still hard to let me see you in all your cracked perfection, but please know:
Whether it’s the days you burn more brilliant than the sun or the nights you collapse into my lap, your body broken into a thousand questions, you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
I will love you when you are a still day.
I will love you when you are a hurricane."
I hate it when people imply that men “gave” us anything. Our foremothers fought tooth and nail for the rights we have and they were grudgingly handed over by men who hated us.
Why do people think being nice to men about feminism now would accomplish anything when it never has before???