Maybe The Right Kind Of Love Isn’t The One That Burns Like A 100 Acre Forest Fire. Maybe It Burns More

Kissing him felt dipping my whole tongue in sugar and strawberries

I am too good at loving the villain, romanticising the devil. maybe this is why I always searched for monsters under my bed, ready to invite him in.

maybe all this time, the monster under my bed was you. I was destined for nothing other than a fire love, torture. this is why your pain does not scare me. I was born to love your darkness and fed you my light.

come on my love, I will hide under the bed with you forever.

healing….

When the world turns quite and the sun fades away and there are no distractions to spare my heart the thought of you, and the only thing to be heard is the whistle of the wind or rain as it gently patters against my windows, it’s easier. I understand now why you left and I’m slowly accepting the fact that you won’t be coming back. I don’t choke or lose my breath to the idea of you with different women, but rather happy. Happy that you’re happy. stay safe out there buddy, I’m rooting for you always. 

“I never meant to hurt you”

but you did.

the most.

July.

July unfolds herself in a mess of aching limbs and a stretched-out heart. Swollen. A dream-haze. How slowly the summer months drift by; blush coloured clouds, coral lights, the world dusted in rose pink and a breathless awaiting. An awakening kiss. It seems that these days are a litte forsaken. The prince never comes/the angles stop believing in us. We breathe a sigh of relief. The sky relaxes her muscles and the birds fly home.

I hope when I grow up I’m still the same person I am now.

I hope I still find joy in the different colours of the sky

I hope I still see love as one of the most beautiful thing in the world.

I hope my heart still stays kind.

I hope I still find peace is helping the homeless, seeing kids smile, believing in God.

I hope the sound of the rain is still my favourite sound and I never not see the beauty when the sky pours it’s own melancholy.

I hope art is still the only thing I know.

I hope New York still holds my heart right in-between it’s big city lights

Remembering how free it made me feel when I saw them for the first time when I was 13. And the fleeing moment when they stole my heart on the TV screen when I was 3.

I hope cats are still my favourite animals, that by the time I’m 60 I have at least 100.

I hope Disney movies are still my security every night I feel alone, and that chocolate is still my favourite thing to eat into after a bad breakup.

And that I never forget the dances to grease, that I’m still alive to watch my husband dance with my daughter to the songs as me and my father used to do when I was younger.

That country music is still the only way to understand any kind of hurt and conflict in my life.

I hope I never lose my love for Christmas and Halloween. That every year I get to decorate my house with too many lights and big Christmas trees. And that I get to give the kids extra candy and become the favourite house to trick and treat to.

That every time I pass a park with monkey bars I will still try it, knowing I’ll fail but hoping that I will at least get past one.

I hope when I grow up I’m still the same person I am now.

I hope I never grow up.

you’ve ruined 11:11 for me

should’ve known better to try and love a boy who plays the electric guitar.

I knew a girl once.

who was so in love with this one boy.

that when the world turned upside down and burnt inside out.

God seeked her out. He knelt to her and asked.

“Tell me my child, one choice only. who do I save? you or him? him or everyone else?

with no hesitation the girl screamed on her own last breath “HIM. SAVE HIM”

she’s a very different girl now to who I once knew.

I pray one day she understands why God chose to save her instead.

Place your arms around my soul and whisper to me that you will never let go.