12 Things you should do if you love someone
1. Write them poetry even if it’s shitty. I don’t care if it’s fucking nonsense. Write how they make you feel like fire.
2. Let them cry into your shirt. Let them wipe their snot and tears on you. It doesn’t matter if it’s your favorite shirt. If you love them you won’t care.
3. Count the stars with them. When you see a shooting star. Tell them how you wished for them to kiss you. Then fucking kiss them.
4. When they tell you they want to die. Look them in the eyes and whisper “I fucking love you.” Stay up with them all night and talk them out of it. Remind them that they extinguished the pain in your heart and say you’ll help do the same.
5. Bring them roses. I don’t care if they’re a boy or a girl. Roses will make anyone’s day.
6. On the days they’re afraid they’ll lose you. Kiss their forehead, remind them that you love them more than you love your favorite band and then kiss their lips so passionately that they’re questioning themselves as to why they asked that question.
7. Sing with them. They won’t care if your voice is shitty. They’ll be more focused on the redness of your cheeks than the rattle of your vocal chords.
8. When they wake up in the morning tell them their beautiful. Say their messy hair and sleepy voice is the reason you get up in the morning. Tell them you live for their good morning smile.
9. When they’re puking in a bucket because they’re sick, hug them. They’ll resist and say how there’s vomit all over them. Hug them anyways. It’ll mean the world to them.
10. When you touch them, tell them that they are a masterpiece. Every curve of their body is beautiful. Especially their soul. Remind them that they are a supernova and you’d love them even if they exploded.
11. On the days they make you want to tear your hair out, remind yourself that you picked them for a reason. Remember that you chose them and they chose you.
12. Just fucking love them even when they don’t deserve it.
“They never tell you in health class that once you become a woman, they rip your heart out and put in a clock instead. Counting: sixty secon...”
I saw an angelon the bus,with calligraphy curvesand willowy limbs,and she was beautifuland I wasn’t lustful, or envious,just a happy admirer.Then,she touchedher stomachwith her lady-like hands,and sucked it in.And it broke my heart to thinkthat maybeeven angels cry.
“You would always whisper, “God doesn’t need us,” but your mouth tasted like holy wine, skin like the paper-thin wafers...”
I don’t want to be toldthat the moon is beautifuldespite the factthat it is cratered,I want to be told that the moon is beautiful because of the factthat it is cratered,and that the blinding suncan’t helpbut shine a light on this broken beauty.