vs angel

i would defend your name to god it was your mistreatment of me that was not allowing you into heaven

sometimes, i’m the mess. sometimes, i’m the broom. on the hardest days, i have to be both.

i am holding my loneliness and she is a teenage girl with puffy eyes, and i love her more than i have ever loved anyone

I wanted to leave as soon as I could. Sometimes I think I was born with a suitcase.

So come here. Let me love those bruises out of you. We’ll love like children with a box of bandages- we won’t ask where it hurts. We’ll just kiss all of it.

you are not unlovable you are just sad and a little angry. let’s go have some soup.

Maybe if you take a hot shower. Cook something. Eat a little soup. Feel a little sunshine. Make something with your hands - it doesn’t have to be big. Maybe if you stretch your body and draw a silly little picture and get some rest, the world will feel like something your hands can still hold.

will i be something? am i something? and the answer comes: you already are. you always were. and you still have time to be.