Maybe I don't have a fear of commitment, but a fear of committing to the wrong one instead. I'd give everything I have to someone if I knew they truly meant what they said.
I'm a wildflower; the rarest one among pretty, perfect ones. I spend years in this field, watching as others are picked, and I remain rooted here. I want to cry out, "Pick me! Don't you see me here?" but then I remember what I've seen. I don't want to be torn apart for another who … Continue reading Love Me, Love Me Not
I find myself feeling sick to my stomach whenever you cross my mind. The butterflies you once gave me are now just hollowed carcasses left behind to poison me every time I hear your name.
We spend so much time placing emphasis on how "Sorry" is an action and not just a word. For the record, the phrase "Thank you" is an action, too.
It's in the silence of a pitch black room, where the glow of a streetlight outside filters through the slit where curtains meet that I find myself thinking about you. And I can't help but wonder, with my hands trembling at the thought of you, if you feel sorrow when you think of what you … Continue reading Tremble
Lust drips off your lips like crystallized honey, a wild temptation I'm sure to regret. You move closer and I hesitate for a moment, but I cannot resist the urge. Oh, how you taste like broken promises and star-crossed love.
She wanted to see the good in you, so she went to work building a foundation for love and the future you promised her. She noticed when you set your tools down and left her to do all the work on her own, but she made excuses for your behavior. When you set fires to … Continue reading Cracked Foundation
You were too busy yelling to notice how she flinched at your sudden movements and made herself smaller in your presence. She did her best to put you on a pedestal, bow at your feet and sing praises to you, because happy you was how she stayed safe. Did it make you feel good to … Continue reading Monster (Not Man)
The words I've left unsaid because I was too afraid of hurting another's feelings or rocking the boat I was in, slip past my lips, spill into the pitch black of night, and haunt me in my sleep. Oh, how I regret being kind when I should've been honest.
Don't tell me to love this body I am in, to appreciate the life it gives me, to value the way it carries me or to reconfigure my brain and see the imperfections as perfect. Don't you dare tell me to be positive. Tell the men who abused my body, who used my body, who … Continue reading Fuck Body Positivity