the thing about mountains is that there is only one peak and the rest is all downhill *****, nothing but raw material for an avalanche.

i don’t think you’re willing yet to see inside all the dusty corners of me, the places where the paint has chipped and there’s a drip in the ceiling and the tiles are coming up.

i didn’t kiss you back on the porch because i wanted to be fixed;

what i wanted was to dig deeper inside the gaping hole of what is already wrong with me.

the thing about setting people on pedestals and mountain peaks is that they will eventually fall

and the best thing you can do when it happens is to rip your eyelids off like band-aids.

--

i am discovering that it is possible to be both entirely certain and entirely uncertain at the same time.

there is only so far you can push me and then i swear

you will have to pick between the body and the girl within the body, so what’ll it be?

you don’t get to have that dream you so desperately want. you get this, you get me, or you can have somebody else,

but i don’t really want that, and that’s where the question is: how much of myself will i give away to keep you?

you didn’t ask me if what you did was okay, you didn’t let me choose, you didn’t ask for consent. these are facts.

--

the thing about mountains is that a snowball rolling down the side can grow to the side of a buick if you leave it alone long enough.

the thing about me is that sometimes my tongue flies straight of out of my mouth if you ask me to talk about things that matter.

here we are again, raw material for an avalanche,

and the tip of the peak is not as stable as i hoped it would be.

tell me you want me, baby,

tell me i’m not going to ruin this.

i guess the thing about people is that they never really want to change, do they?