shewhofightswithmonsters
When I was thirteen
I learned what my
First name really was.
I discovered how sweet it felt
To melt myself
Into someone else’s callow lungs.
Clinging to their shoulders
Like a life raft.
When I was sixteen
I was bored enough to run
Naked down the shoreline.
After a few months
I was in a city I had never met before.
I found a boat
With a hole in the bottom
And no sailor in sight
To give it a purpose.
So I climbed inside
And let it sink me.
At the bottom of the ocean,
I learned my name again.
It’s funny how much
You remember
When you let yourself drown.
And now, oh god, I wish I could forget. (via shewhofightswithmonsters)
shewhofightswithmonsters
The moon will touch you with a kind glow,
And love even your imperfect surface.
The moon will let you show your soul.
The moon will let you cry without being scrutinized.
The night will drape you in the aegis of intimacy and silence.
The moon will reach down and kiss your cheeks,
A soft light reaching through the arbors under which you sleep:
It remembers how deeply you fear being alone.
The moon will never leave your flesh blistered and red.
It will find your brutalized, weeping skin,
And will christen you with dew to heal your burns.
You may wake suddenly from a dream,
Glistening in the silver light.
And you may open your eyes slowly,
Because you thought you felt music
Wrapping around your bones.
The moon wanted you to know
It loves you.
In Orbit (part 2/2)
shewhofightswithmonsters
The more I consider this,
The more I am baffled
By why we fear the dark of the night,
And not the light of the sun.
The sun has told us:
“Cover up your soft and beautiful parts,
Hide your sweet and tender flesh from me
Or I will smack it with an open palm,
Until it is angry, red and broken.
And to lay in your bed will make you feel on fire,
And you will wake up in the morning, Rough and blistered,
Cold and unprotected by a nest of your own peeled, ashen flesh.”
The sun will confound you and dry out your insides,
Until you are sick and dizzy.
In the sun, the members of our vast and critical tribe
Are able to see and judge our exterior with unjust and spiteful clarity.
In the sun, we have learned to choose our coverings to please the rest.
The sun has taught us to poke holes
In our ears and face and every other conceivable part,
To mark ourselves with inky needles,
To silently warn the others
That we are capable of withstanding a great deal of pain.
The sun has instructed us to lie, and say that we do not grow hair,
All in an effort to find someone who does not love us for our soul,
But for the smoothness of our forms.
The sun has lied to us
Told us that every day is a battle
To be entered with warpaint.
The sun has shown us all the things we cannot have.
The sun will never love you
For who you are.
In Orbit (part 1/2)
shewhofightswithmonsters

today i learned that if i shut my eyes hard enough and go somewhere else in my head i can forget i’m choking on

something sickly that i am simply expected to choke on while you

stagger drunkenly about the unlit apartment and i pray to the

gods that the neighbors can’t hear

the tears sliding down my cheeks while the back of my throat burns and i don’t know why and i

couldn’t tell you why i’m making that noise even if you

cared enough to ask but i just remembered that time i was called a troublemaker for no reason at

all but here i am choking to death in the dark

and my chest hurts so bad it’s like i’m at the bottom of a river again (via shewhofightswithmonsters)
shewhofightswithmonsters
I don’t want to hear that you love me.
I don’t want to hear that you really care about me or that no one else has made you feel this way.
Because I know you could get over it, someday. That could someday be gone without a trace.
And because even if you say I have stirred unprecedented feelings in you, you love me how you were taught to love. You love me how your parents told you to love and how the movies and the books told you to love.
So I don’t want to hear that you love me.
I want to hear that I taught you how to love me. I want to know that you love me in a way that you could never love anyone else, because that is a type of real, honest love that you learned from me. I want to know that I’ve changed the way you see loving anyone at all, not that you’ve worked me into the list of people that you love the way you’ve always loved. I want to know I’ve changed the shape of your heart. I want to know that I’ve shaken your faith in the door-holding, check-paying, flower-bringing, diamond-buying, red-heart, box-of-chocolates, flash-mob-proposal kind of love. I want to know you would love me if there was nothing in it for you. If there was no future in store. I want to know that you would love me if you were the moon and I was the Earth. I want to know that you would still shine soft light on my most beautiful features even if you could never touch them.
My frustrations with knowing you would not love me if I cut off all my hair. (via shewhofightswithmonsters)