the older i get
the more i realize the value of privacy
of cultivating your circle and only letting certain people in
you can be open, honest, and real while still understanding not everyone deserves a seat at the table of your life
Don’t try and find me again, you would be lonely for music. I want you to be happy. I want you to marry again. I’m going to write out instructions for your next wife.
To my husband’s next wife: Be gentle. Be sure you comb his hair when it’s wet. Do not fail to notice that his face flushes pink like a bride’s when you kiss him. Give him lots to eat. He forgets to eat and he gets cranky.
When he is sad, kiss his forehead and I will thank you. For he is a young prince and his robes are too heavy on him. His crown falls down around his ears.
I’ll give this letter to a worm. I hope he finds you.
your thighs off my hips.
As far as I’m concerned
they are all surgeons. All of them.
They dismantled us
each from the other.
As far as I’m concerned
they are all engineers. All of them.
A pity. We were such a good
and loving invention.
An airplane made from a man and wife.
Wings and everything.
We hovered a little above the earth.
We even flew a little.“A Pity. We Were Such A Good Invention,” Yehuda Amichai (via beautyisanillusion)
i mean. its ok if personally you prefer girls who arent hairy. but like. think critically about why. like fucking take a step back and really assess why its so important to you that girls don’t grow hair in places they do and why it doesn’t matter on men. im serious. come back to me and tell me one good reason. give examples and show your work. its due on my desk monday morning
Postcards for Ants
An ongoing painting project by Cape Town artist Lorraine Loots who has been creating a miniature painting every single day since January 1, 2013.
Benches in Sweden are very friend and couple friendly
“I still want to be friends” but I am already
on the next subway, the next taxi, the next whatever.
I am thinking about dinner that night, or the next night:
Angus beef, sauteed chicken, mahi mahi fish tacos.
I am thinking about the coffee pot and runner’s knee
and how much money I have in my savings. I am
thinking about hypothermia and missing bodies;
all the knives in my bed. I am thinking about how
the very word promise sounds more like an undoing.
I am thinking about the easiness of mouths.
How they open. How they give so much but also
about how they take away the things our minds
have committed to that permanent place of the brain,
where memories continue to rattle around long after
we’ve stopped shaking. I am thinking about how
he has turned me into a lake and I’ve never learned
how to swim. I am thinking about how I now have to
unlearn all of his secrets. Become a tourist to his body
again, blink against the hurt. I am thinking about
expensive hair cuts and retail therapy, dressing room
girls who are used to outlandish requests from customers.
I am thinking that this isn’t a dress my mother
would approve of, but honey, I look so good in red. Kristina Haynes, “The Breakup Sweats” (via modernmethadone)
destroy this new idea that a woman can’t be strong if she cries over a man she’s lost. destroy the idea that you have to be cold and emotionally detached in order to be a strong woman