i am not just a feminist, i am a supporter of people.
my heart mourns you for weeks. my brain takes care of my body while my hearts barely beats on.
i yell at my mother with her same ruthlessness and out-argue my father with his same logic.
i crave physical touch like a drug. i crave skin to skin, soul to soul kind of touch. i crave interlocking pinkies because i need a little hit. i crave to hug people that do little things for me because it’s the only way i know how to say thank you.
i taste you, on my tongue. i taste us, on my tongue. i taste tragedy, on my tongue.
i am so terribly sad. someone must be watching the movie of my life for a good cry.
i’ve finally figured out what makes my life meaningful. it’s the color of leaves right before they fall, the quiet bliss after a friend leaves, the cool rain falling on my skin as i dance, the warmth of the sun wrapping around my body, and the feeling when a plane just takes off and you feel weightless. these are the things that i live for between grief and love and acceptance.
why must i be so full of rage? i can only dream of peace.
even though we are not in love anymore, your mere presence puts me at ease. your body being in my vicinity calms my restless mind.
two years ago i worshipped the man i thought you were. thank god i am off my knees now.