Queen

some days I wonder / how all of me can fit in this body & still stay together.

I’ve stopped being sorry for all my soft. I won’t apologise because I miss you, or because I said it, or because I text you first, or again. I think everyone spends too much time trying to close themselves off. I don’t want to be cool or indifferent, I want to be honest. If I love you at 5AM, I’d damn well rather that you know I felt it. If I love you two hours later, I’ll tell you then too. Listen, I won’t wait double the time it takes for you to text me back because I don’t want to. I don’t care enough to be patient with you. I’m happy, you made me feel that way, don’t you want to know? So that’s how it’s going to be. I’m going to leave myself as open as a church door. And I’m going to wake you up before the crack of dawn to tell you that I’m fucking joyful, no pretending, not from me, not ever. Would you like some coffee, would you please kiss me? Here, these are my hands, this is my mouth, it is all yours.

Sometimes I despise the english language because there are no words to describe this type of love. No combination of letters captures the way your hands make me feel safe or how all it takes is one thought of you to feel better. And that’s not fair because you deserve to know how loved you are. You deserve to hear it every single day.

My arms feel so empty without you here for me to wrap them around.

That men do not learn very much from the lessons of history is the most important of all the lessons that history has to teach.

She’s sensitive, too. Takes to hurt the way water takes to paper.