I am an architect of scenarios that do not exist.
You loved me once, by the Gulf of Mexico, with the wind blowing in my hair - you loved me once, but you do not remember.
When we allowed the sun to burn our skin
on the beach that spring break,
we promised ourselves this is the only pain we
would ever have to go through alone.
I close my eyes and try to separate reality from these self constructed dreams of you and me
and I do not know what is real anymore.
I remember us flying kites in the field in your grandma’s
yard the day after you said you loved me,
but neither of us have ever held a kite in our hands.
I remember us rocking on your front porch talking
about our quilted future, sewn together -
but you do not own any rocking chairs…
you do not even have a front porch,
just stepping stone walkways to your front door.
I think I made this love up inside my head.
Are your eyes even green?
Did you ever love me?
I am an architect of scenarios that will never exist.
When I told you I loved you,
you said you didn’t even know me.
women get abused and raped and murdered and harassed and subordinated and dehumanized day to day because of their gender
men get called “scum” and lose their fucking minds
im glad i dont have a thigh gap i almost dropped my phone into the toilet but i caught it with thunder and lightning
On a scale of cuddles to rough sex i need everything on the fucking scale.