“You want to travel with them. You want to see what they’re like going through airport security, on planes, in strange countries. You want to meet their families and charm them to pieces. You want to nestle into their childhood beds and look around in the dark at all their old posters. You want to see all the embarrassing photos of them with braces and socks pulled up mid-calf. You want to hear all the stories about their drunken nights under the bleachers and their best friend’s jokes. You want to read all their journals, see how they took notes in high school. Did they use pen or pencil? What color highlighter? You want to work with them, just to see them work. You want to go out with them. You want to make out with them in the bathroom. You always want to touch them; you want them to always want to touch you.
You find reasons to disentangle yourself from them; it’s only going to hurt later, you can tell already. You stay up way past your bedtime for them. You look at the clock and know their schedule. You neglect other people and other things, and beat yourself up about it. But it’s like they have a hold of your hands and your voice, and you don’t mind. It’s like you’re trapped in an hourglass; you know your lungs might fill with sand, but there’s something sensual and comforting about the grains sliding down glass walls and pooling around your ankles, your knees, your waist.
You like things about their appearance that the rest of the world may cringe at and call strange, less than perfect. Their broken, reshaped noses; their little teeth or the gaps in between them; the way they pull their hair; their narrow hips; their wide shoulders; the depth of their pores. You can laugh when funny things happen in bed. You usually want to be in bed with them.
You think they’re smarter, better, friendlier, fitter, happier, more productive than you are. You strive to be as much as they are, as good as they are. You try to cheat and figure out what it is they’re going to teach you, if they’re going to fall from grace, if you’re going to play a part for them that you never thought you’d play before. You try and pull patterns and threads of meaning from the conversation or the way they looked at you the first time you met; what they did, what they offered. An apple stolen from the bar. Notes from a guitar. Pitchers of free beer. Pieces of bark with writing on them.
You cherish snippets of them; paste them up in your memories like old faded scrapbooks clutched to chests for generations. Their skin glows black and white in your head. They star in the little short films of your life that sneak up on you when you’re not looking. Like the walk to the South End for dinner on a quiet corner. The feel of the sun beating down on you both at an outdoor concert. The way they ordered wine on your first date. The slow swing of a hammock near a lake. The back seat of their car.
You can see yourself with them in the future you can’t quite see. You build apartments outfitted with all the right kitchen supplies and the perfect bed with two nightstands, each piled with books and magazines. You wait for them patiently while they chase their dreams; they wait for you patiently as you chase yours. You sit in bed eating dinner late at night, drinking tea and wine and whiskey as you tell each other all about the chasing. You create adopted dogs and cats; you have awkward conversations about money; you put up with each other’s crap. You see what they look like standing at the end of a candle-lit aisle in your grassy front yard and wonder if you’ll make it to the other end to meet them or if they’ll just end up in the scrapbook clutched to your chest or flickering on the screen in your brain.”
 —How You Know - Talia Ralph (via lxxxv


A Letter to Sweetheart

I'm shattered and broken... empty and hollow in every possible way you can think of... I feel like I lost my meaning and sense of morality.. Excruciating pain, more than I can take, my body won't stop trembling, and my veins boil with sadness. I can't breathe and I'm fighting all of my instincts to not hurt. I'm trying to think beautiful and happy, but it's nearly impossible. What is a purpose if everything you've ever believed in is taken from you? 
     I'll never forget last night. The way you looked, the way you moved, how your lips pressed against my temple and moved their way to my lips, the way your arms felt wrapped around me so secure and promising. I didn't want to leave you, that last hug meant the world to me... You always had a way to make me smile, you always looked at the positive side of things. I'll keep you in my heart forever, and although you will not be with me physically, I'll take you with me wherever I may go, I'll think of you and I'll stick the labels of new movies in random places of the house.. Just know I love you sweetheart, maybe right now isn't our time, maybe it'll be in a few years, or maybe it just wasn't meant to be, regardless, I don't regret anything that happened between us, we shared a love that we'll carry with us for the rest of our lives, we lived, you and I. We're going to be great people who do great things. Remember that what matters most is our self-happiness, without it, our worlds will fall apart and those that we love will be affected by it. Be you, be lovely, be free, be happy. We came into this world on our own and we're leaving it just the same, have adventures and make memories because in the end that's all you'll take with you, the destination isn't what matters most, it's what you do to get there that counts. I wonder if you'll ever read this... right now we're taking the time to find ourselves again... we may not speak, it's agonizing pain to live without you, but eventually, sometime in the future, we'll talk again, and I'll smile at you and remember our life together... this isn't goodbye, just a "see you later". Till we meet again love...

I am not the first person you loved.
You are not the first person I looked at
with a mouthful of forevers. We
have both known loss like the sharp edges
of a knife. We have both lived with lips
more scar tissue than skin. Our love came
unannounced in the middle of the night.
Our love came when we’d given up
on asking love to come. I think
that has to be part
of its miracle.
This is how we heal.
I will kiss you like forgiveness. You
will hold me like I’m hope. Our arms
will bandage and we will press promises
between us like flowers in a book.
I will write sonnets to the salt of sweat
on your skin. I will write novels to the scar
of your nose. I will write a dictionary
of all the words I have used trying
to describe the way it feels to have finally,
finally found you.
And I will not be afraid
of your scars.
I know sometimes
it’s still hard to let me see you
in all your cracked perfection,
but please know:
whether it’s the days you burn
more brilliant than the sun
or the nights you collapse into my lap
your body broken into a thousand questions,
you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
I will love you when you are a still day.
I will love you when you are a hurricane.
” —Clementine von Radics, Mouthful of Forevers