Writings for Winter: things my mother didn't tell me but should have

writingsforwinter:

Never give any kind of pleasure to a boy you wouldn’t give yourself.

Kiss like a promise and wait for the other person to break it.

Human beings are not ships; you cannot save them from sinking

if they don’t want to be rescued from the floodwaters.

Loving someone that doesn’t give a damn about you

isn’t sexy; it’s misplaced energy, also known as self-destruction.

Don’t ever treat anyone like a refugee from a civil war;

they will come back from battle and leave you as wounded

as if you were the one who had been paid

for military service. Forgiveness isn’t putting the weapon down;

it’s learning how to kiss the person pulling the trigger,

not just a quick peck on the cheek, but a full one with tongue.

Let the dead be dead.

They have no answering machines, no phonelines:

if you call them, only the ground will ring.

Never trust a boy who already has a pack of condoms ready

in his coat pocket before he even asks your name.

When the world tries to break your back with its weight,

get a stronger spine.

Your father left us because he was ashamed

for not being the one that gave birth to you.

Even oceans misplace their anchors sometimes.

Never “give a man permission.”

You shouldn’t have to. It should be mutual.

Stop treating your body like currency-

don’t pay anyone who doesn’t deserve it.

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“The gods gave men two gifts to entertain ourselves before we die—the thrill of fucking a woman who wants to be fucked, and the thrill of killing a man who wants to kill you.”

-Daario Naharis

blankslate: black and white synesthesiais god’s wrath and sense of humorkissing...

blankslate:

black and white synesthesia
is god’s wrath and sense of humor
kissing

i made a rope out of all the times
i didn’t call you and i
tied my left wrist to my right ankle

imagination is a red hand print
on my back

i can feel you touch me when i 
laugh so i laugh all of the time even
when it isn’t funny

it’s almost never funny

ten thousand on and off switches
in the place of feelings
feels like Who I Am
trapped in a constant cliffhanger

no one person should love and hate
this much

i need color

i need flowers in my mind
need cracks in my spirit

Memories, “play”