• favorite writing prose poem girl power feminism spoken word quarter-life crisis prose poem twenty-something tumblr prose findingwordsforthoughts •
i choose to be single, you see. because, i’ve met too many boys who wanted to keep me close, keep me with them, safely tucked away, hidden under their wings. i’ve met too many boys who liked my intellect the way one likes a trophy, they liked being able to show it off at parties, they liked the sound of my voice in public - but not at home: baby, baby just please let it go and come to bed. i’ve met too many boys that loved my body, the length of my legs and bones in my hips, but they did not like the fact i counted calories, they did not like the fact that i was not carefree, reckless with abundance. i’ve met too many boys who loved my jokes, but when i say loved i mean they laughed to appease, and when i say jokes i mean things i said and meant them - like this is unfair, or this hurts me, or i am uncomfortable. i’ve met too many boys who loved looking at me, who loved my surface, but feared my depth. i’ve met too many boys i didn’t like, but thought i loved; too many of them made me feel guilty for wanting to be free, away from them, away from the hands that pulled me back, but never helped me up. i’ve met too many boys who stole too many of my days, too many hours i’ve spent apologizing for who i am, for not fitting a vision they had, a vision i played no part in helping them create. i choose to be single - it feels good you see, being happy in my own skin, it feels good not having anyone trying to claw their way in - you conquer from inside you see. i am single and i’ve never been less lonely. it took me 23 years, but i finally learned to enjoy my own company.

report
1642 notes / 1 year 7 months ago
I want you to know all of me. I do. The splinters, the tender places behind my ears. The open cradles of my palms aching for your heart.
What do I want to be when I grow up? I want to be happy. I want be the feeling. I want to be the thrill during roller coaster rides. I want...
like my skin my soul is black.and what a beautiful thing it is.
I am a reader. I am a writer. People assume I do these things to escape. You couldn’t be more right. I’m escaping a world I don’t like. A world I have no control in. In this world, I am nothing. I am a color, a height, a weight, a number. But in the world of books and writing, I am...
I play chase with boys with wolves’ fangs. There is a scar on my back marking each time they have won. And yet I keep doing it. I keep prett...
words prose poetry free poem freehand
depressed depression sad suicidal suicide lonely pain alone broken writing crying self harm cry done prose poetry poem lie spilled ink breaking
He said, ‘You can’t be a poet, you’re too tender. You’d never be able to stand the blows it takes to tell another’s story.’ He paused. ‘A...
drawing Illustration girl lit writing books prose artists on tumblr nan Nathaniel Bellows
Things aren’t always going to be easy. When you are in the sixth grade you will jump out of your window to escape the beating on the ...
You must understand the whole of life, not just one little part of it. That is why you must read, that is why you must look at the skies, th...
why is it always the woman who has to see past the beast in the man? why does she always have to clean his wounds, even after he has damaged...