It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the sound I heard when I was 9 and my father slammed the front door so hard behind him I swear to god it shook the whole house. For the next 3 years I watched my mother break her teeth on vodka bottles. I think she stopped breathing when he left. I think part of her died. I think he took her heart with him when he walked out. Her chest is empty, just a shattered mess or cracked ribs and depression pills.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s all the blood in the sink. It’s the night that I spent 12 hours in the emergency room waiting to see if my sister was going to be okay, after the boy she loved, told her he didn’t love her anymore. It’s the crying, and the fluorescent lights, and white sneakers and pale faces and shaky breaths and blood. So much blood.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the time that I had to stay up for two days straight with my best friend while she cried and shrieked and threw up on my bedroom floor because her boyfriend fucked his ex. I swear to god she still has tear streaks stained onto her cheeks. I think when you love someone, it never really goes away.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the six weeks we had a substitute in English because our teacher was getting divorced and couldn’t handle getting out of bed. When she came back she was smiling. But her hands shook so hard when she held her coffee, you could see that something was broken inside. And sometimes when things break, you can’t fix them. Nothing ever goes back to how it was. I got an A in English that year. I think her head was always spinning too hard to read any essays.
It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s that I do.
Isnt it amazing how beautiful people are. Like just look at anyone and study them and their features and how their lips tort and eyes glisten and how their hair falls or sticks or lays. How their eyebrows flex and the way their arms fold, how expressive their hands are. The way their body moves and how their chest rises and falls so subtley with their pulse. People are beautiful even if we dont find them attractive. The fact that they’re a living being is unbelievably magnificent.
nice boobs and nice ass isn’t a requirement from my girl. like i ain’t gon turn down a shawty wit a perfect personality and a beautiful face cause she don’t got no body. body is icing on the cake but pound cake ain’t got no icing and i fuck wit that heavy.
this touches my soul
|person:||i hate cats|
|me:||what the fuck|