and honestly, never let any man tell you that you’re too conceited or that he thinks you’re too full of yourself. dr. angelou said some real shit about how modesty is a learned adaptation that people use to cheat themselves out of acknowledging their own greatness. we learn to…
Is it too early to want to be around you
I want to make you laugh and smile and get angry and frustrated
I want to go on late night adventures with you
Get lost somewhere, anywhere
Drive around aimlessly listening to music, bickering over who’s turn it is t choose.
See the parts of your mind that few people get to see, and show you the parts of mine that even fewer have seen.
Is it stupid to feel like this so early? When there is nothing really happening between us?
When all I know is that I like talking to you, and you seem to like talking to me, and I want to keep talking to you.
When all I know is the conversations that we do have seem really intimate and personal. That when you talk to me I feel like we are the only people in the room.
I know this is dumb, I know I am dumb, but unfortunately I cant help it.
I want do all that stupid stuff with you and it pisses me off, because I am not this girl. I am not this girl. But you make me this girl.
And I dont like it, but I think I really could like you.
Missing someone is like hearing
a name sung quietly from somewhere
behind you. Even after you know
no one is there, you keep looking back
until on a silver afternoon like this
you find yourself breathing just enough
to make a small dent in the air….
I remember holding you against the sink,
with the sun soaking the window, the soft call
of your hips, and the intricate flickers
of thought chiming your eyes. Your mouth,
like a Saturday. I remember your
long thighs, how they
opened on the sofa, and the pulse
of your cry when you came, and
sometimes I miss you
the way someone drowning
remembers the air.