Worrying is just negative creativity.
You think you have seen her naked because she took her clothes off? You’ve kissed her lips, and you’ve climbed inside her.
Somehow you think that’s enough to know someone and to know love .
Tell me about her nightmares? The ones that have her twitching next to you as you snore on, oblivious. Look down at your unblemished hands and tell me how many times you’ve cut yourself on the pieces of her broken heart.
Tell me why she paints, why she writes, why she takes long baths.
Tell me about her life, her childhood, tell me about the first man who broke her heart.
Tell me about her father and her brothers.
Tell me about her demons, and her fears.
Tell me about her insecurities and the conversations she has with herself.
Tell me about everything she wants from life. Tell me the tiny little things she’s wished upon a star for.
Tell me why her favorite city is her favorite city. Tell me why she flinches, ever so slightly, when you call her beautiful.
Tell me all the little things you hate about her. And I’ll tell you as why I love them.
Tell me about her darkness, and I will tell you about her light.
No my friend, you may have seen her body, but you have still yet to see her naked.
I’m so upset because if we were st Vincent and cara delevigne you’d be cara and I’d be st.
Wish I was cara but I have to accept life as it is.
I love you like old hardwood floors
A harpsichord
Your mothers instagram
I love you like puppy teeth
Bruised knees
Coming home after work
I love you like the news when it’s good
My old neighborhood
Holding the door for strangers
I love you like an always unlocked door
A cold pillow
The first time I saw blades of grass
25 Lives
by Tongari
The very first time I remember you, you are blonde and don’t love me back.
The next time you are brunette, and you do.
After a while I give up trying to guess if the colour of your hair means anything.
because even if you don’t exist, I am always in love with you.
I remember most fondly those lifetimes where we get to grow up together,
when you share your secrets and sorrows and hiding places with me.
I love how you play along with my bad ideas,
before you grow up and realize they are bad ideas.
(And in our times together I have many bad ideas.)
When we meet as adults you’re always much more discerning. I don’t blame you.
Yet, always, you forgive me.
As if you understand what’s going on, and you’re making up for
all the lifetimes in which one of us doesn’t exist,
and the ones where we just, barely, never meet.
I hate those. I prefer the ones in which you kill me.
But when all’s said and done, I’d surrender to you in other ways.
Even though each time, I know I’ll see you again, I always wonder
is this the last time?
Is that really you?
And what if you’re perfectly happy
without me?
Ah, but I don’t blame you; I’ll never burn as brilliantly as you. It’s only fair
that I should be the one
to chase you across ten, twenty-five, a hundred lifetimes
until I find the one where you’ll return to me.
There isn’t a word in the English dictionary for how I feel when you say “I’m fine.”
Something very surprising happened to me in the last ten days. When the law took my only source of undying, unconditional, unwavering love from my hands- I didn’t experience anger. I never lashed out. Before this happened I thought I was an unbreakable powerhouse. I stopped at nothing to burn down whoever dared cross me or my loved ones. But then the unimaginable happened and -I crumbled into nothing. I couldn’t speak on my behalf or even carry any tangible thoughts at all. What was on my mind was far from anger, it was only loss.
A loss so deep that anger never surfaced. Only sadness, pain, something I’ve never felt before.
And what I learned from this is not to spite people retroactively when unable to do so in real time- what I learned was to treat every human being as if they may be suffering through the worst hardship of their life at that moment, even if they weren’t.
So many people didn’t know that I was going through my own literal hell for ten days. But I knew. And I treated everyone around me with more respect than I normally would have because -what if they were too??
When a woman gets raped people say “maybe she should be more careful about being a woman”
When a black person gets shot people say “maybe they should be more careful about being black”
When a trans person gets assaulted people say “maybe they should have been more careful about being trans”
When a cop gets shot people say “OH MY GOD THIS IS CRAZY WHAT A TRAGEDY PRAYING FOR THESE FALLEN HEROES JUST DOING THEIR JOBS OH GOD OH GOD”
I’m fucking done. I’m done.
No justice. No peace.
