kelly delaney

I get reckless when I want to be touched. I call and hang up. I walk into the middle of the street. I lie. I dangle my phone out of the second story window, pretend I’m saving your life. The things that I want are shameful. The things that I want are meant for spectacular bodies sprawled out in big beds, or slammed up against a wall. All I’ve got is a couch and a crooked mouth that wants to bruise your neck, so I’ll pretend it’s enough to get you to come home with me. So what if I’m not spectacular? I can still have the dream of you with your hands all over me, unashamed and hungry, if I want it. Look, just come over. Just go with me here, for a second. I know you don’t love me. I know this, but pretend. Pretend for a while. I don’t care if I’m special, as long as you fuck me like I am.

In order to move on, you must understand why you felt what you did and why you no longer need to feel it.

Tell the truth, or someone will tell it for you.

You looked like heaven and I felt like hell

i realized there are worse things than a boy not loving you back. there’s being so sad for no reason. there’s anxiety keeping you up at night. there’s studying for hours and still failing the test. there’s not getting into the college you always dreamed of. there’s your mom crying, or her on her death bed, or your parents dying. there’s losing a pet or a friend or yourself. and i realized there’s more important things in life than who you’re going to end up with. like who are you gonna end up like? what kind of person will you be? will you end up having a career you enjoy? will you have somebody to call when you’re crying? and i realized it when you weren’t there when i was lying on my bedroom floor, when you cancelled plans last minute, when you chose her over me, always chose me last, always came running back: i think i’m gonna be okay without you and i think this time, i mean it.