I think that hope is the act of continuing in the face of the truth.
I write to make sense of things that dont make sense to me.
Someone Should Write Me a Love Poem but I'm Stuck Doing It Myself
you can take this mouth this wound you want but you can't kiss and make it better.
I was 14 and madly in love for the first time. He was 21. He made me suddenly, unaccustomedly beautiful with his kisses and mix tapes. During the year of elation and longing, he never mentioned that he had a girlfriend who lived across the street.
I'm not a girl anymore, I'm a woman and my heart beats like prizefighter's fists, and I have not stopped yet, I will not stop.