"It hurts until it doesn’t. You think it’s going to break you, but it won’t. You may not sleep as well at night, but you will be fine. Numb, but numb and fine are the same."
Everyone keeps asking me
what I’m doing with myself,
how I’m passing the time,
what I’m doing with my legs now
that they’re not swinging on the
train to your place.
I am waiting for you to come back to me, that’s what I’m doing.
I am waiting for you to pick up the phone
and call me.
I am pulling teeth.
I am plucking them one by one
and trying to forget what they looked
like pressed into your shoulder
or clinging to your neck.
The truth was an ugly thing
that I kicked out of our bed,
only to watch it climb back in
and take you from me.
I think you’re a coward
for letting it.
I think I could have loved you
better than anybody,
and I can’t stop making lists
of all the times I almost told you that.
That’s what I’m doing.
I’m twisting our story until
it stops remembering you
just so I can sleep at night.
But I’ll always be here,
hands like a broken record that skips
at the sleepless night before you
crawled back into yourself for good.
Just know that I’ve been waiting.
Know that you’re the first time I ever
swallowed my pride and then spit
it back up.
I hope you remember what your
bed felt like with me laying
honest in it.
That is what brave looked like.
I can’t click my reblog button hard enough
It’s not just the ladies who get insecure, it’s all of us. It’s a human trait, yo.
Fricken’ beautiful. Everything that I want to say about this has been said in the post above me.
you can’t stop me from reblogging this over and over again