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they call me an artist,
but i'm just trying to be worthy of that title.
 Mar 2015 call me momma
sav
At first you'll notice his height and broad shoulders, though you'll never notice how sturdy he is till you've laid your head on his chest. It's as if his body became aware during adolescence that one day it will need to bear the weight of the world. If you're lucky, or if he's tipsy, he'll tell you how light you feel compared to it. Pay close attention to his hands when they're not around you. They'll tell the story of holding onto something too tightly for too long. His palms are soft slabs of thick skin. Don't ask him what has scarred his back and callused his skin. His smile will turn inside out, the corners of his lips will pull down. He'll bury his neck and tilt his head towards raised shoulders before letting them fall as if he has no idea what you're talking about.

Always tell him you miss him. It is so much more important than telling him you love him. Even if he's being a huge *******, tell him you miss him. He needs to know that you love him whole heartedly. You'll miss him, you'll miss him all of the time, but not in the way you would expect to miss him. Missing him isn't present, his name isn't flashing across your mind in a racing string of exclamation points, his voice isn't looped on repeat. Missing him is soft, gentle in the way you won't even know you've missed him till you see him again. He will always return the words. He will always tell you he misses you. He doesn't play the "manly man" card when it comes to telling you, though he'll never tell you exactly how much he does. He loves getting random gifts, especially pick ups.  He loves being held, slip your arms around your chest but don't worry if you forget. He'll do it for you. Drape your arms around his neck when he's sitting on the edge of the bed. He will fold into you, and you will feel all of his muscles relax. He loves back rubs and back scratches, this is crucial. When he relaxes, make sure you tighten around him because soon he will be standing tall again.

Remember to love him unconditionally.
I thought you were the most
beautiful creature,
the way you smelled like
you knew all my terrible secrets
and the way you touched  
my hand anyway, like
it was perfectly okay
not to be perfect
  
and then you got even more
beautiful when you laid down
on my bed for the first time
with your hipbones pointing toward
the ceiling that i had stared at
so many nights when i couldnt sleep,
and the curve of your back tickling  
the bed sheets i had lain in  
night after night
fearing they would never be touched by  
another body, and you  
were surrounded by so much of me
  
  
you smelled my pillow and
looked at the pictures on my wall
and you smiled because you knew
all my terrible secrets and you  
*stayed anyway.
 Mar 2015 call me momma
Gwen
Only one type of ****** is illegal to show,
and wearing a skirt is an excuse for ****.
Having two X chromosomes somehow makes my life less important
than someone with an X and Y.
I am taught how to use makeup,
and told it is to attract men.
I am showed how to shave my legs,
and told that having underarm stubble makes me less of a women.
I am told that supporting feminism,
means I hate men when all I want is to be equal to them.
WHAT
I'm choking on half-hearted efforts to move on and heavy nolstsgia.
not anymore
girls are always told about princes and saviors.  fairytales and crowns. but prince charming isn't always charming. and good little christian girls are told "jesus died for you". you're saved by a blood sacrifice yet they say it's wrong to bleed out things on the alter unless you're virginal wives.

and i don't believe in saviors but i know a lot of knives. I know a lot about sacrifices. I know a lot about looking in the mirror and not recognizing the mascara streaked version of myself in my own eyes. that's a dark part of me i'm trying to unlearn, but i'm not sure muscle memory will stop me from reminiscing the singing of razor blades and the way some people gave me the exact same feeling.

head is reeling. wine. didn't he say that it was his blood? drinking 'til we see our graves, trying to forget what his lips looked like, trying to forget the taste of our sacrifices to an undeserving prince. they say the bible is open to interpretation but i have a feeling that isn't what it meant.
addressing unwritten misogyny and bad boys who like to toy with hearts
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