The transition from girl to Woman

People will stab you, and then get offended, saying you have no right to bleed.

When you said goodbye at the end of my street, under the streetlight, it felt different. More permanent. Like you weren’t just saying goodbye to me, but to us. You said I made you sad and happy at once, I didn’t have to ask what that meant because I understood. I understand. Loving me is a curse and a blessing, cold and hot, nothing and everything at once. Loving me is hard, so when you said goodbye, I understood. I understand.

Six months ago I stomped your heart out on the streets of the neighborhood we used to roam. You hated me. God, you fucking hated me. You hated that you loved me. God, you loved me. So much. Tears were coming down from your mesmerizing green eyes, it was tragically beautiful. You were at your most vulnerable, your most raw and true self. The red around your eyes just brought out the green, I’ve never seen your eyes so bright yet so lifeless. You were crying, but it was beautiful. Your knuckles were coated in blues and purples. You were so angry I could feel the hatred in your screams. Now I’m looking at you, the 6am sunrise shining down on us, and you’re looking at me how you used to. Before I broke your heart. I swear you have the same puppy dog eyes, the exact same loving expression written all over your face. How do you do that? How do you still love me, the exact same, after I broke you?

I think one of the saddest realities in life, is craving something you deem as valuable and meaningful and then when it’s finally in your possession - with no experience of how to nurture it, you ruin it and lose it; only to continue the rest of your life searching for its replacement. The art of appreciation will always overshadow regret.

i cried until i convinced myself all my mistakes were washed away i cried until i convinced myself all the pain were numbed away i cried until i couldn’t get myself back together anymore nothing changed the pain just hit me harder leaving me with no air leaving me with nothing

I am not the first person you loved. You are not the first person I looked at with a mouthful of forevers. We have both known loss like the sharp edges of a knife. We have both lived with lips more scar tissue than skin. Our love came unannounced in the middle of the night. Our love came when we’d given up on asking love to come. I think that has to be part of its miracle. This is how we heal. I will kiss you like forgiveness. You will hold me like I’m hope. Our arms will bandage and we will press promises between us like flowers in a book. I will write sonnets to the salt of sweat on your skin. I will write novels to the scar of your nose. I will write a dictionary of all the words I have used trying to describe the way it feels to have finally, finally found you. And I will not be afraid of your scars. I know sometimes it’s still hard to let me see you in all your cracked perfection, but please know: whether it’s the days you burn more brilliant than the sun or the nights you collapse into my lap your body broken into a thousand questions, you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I will love you when you are a still day. I will love you when you are a hurricane.