At first, heartbreak made me beautiful.
My skin fluoresced. I hypnotized trees.
The orphans followed me around town,
drunk on my pain. I ate only my own
hunger, gave off a scent like bitter oranges
or chlorine. Loss left me strangely whole,
as if my sadness, were it strong enough,
could turn your ship around. That was back
when I aged. Now, like an astronomer
who seeks no first causes, but only to map
the connections pinned out over the sea,
I want to diagram the light that shines out
through the holes you pricked into me.

Intimacy is not who you let touch you. Intimacy is who you text at 3am about your dreams and fears. Intimacy is giving someone your attention, when ten other people are asking for it. Intimacy is the person always in the back of your mind, no matter how distracted you are.

Beauty is not long hair, skinny legs, tanned skin or perfect teeth. Believe me. Beauty is the face of who cried and now smiles, beauty is the scar on your knee since you fell when you were a kid, beauty is the circles when love doesn’t let you sleep, beauty is the expression on the face when the alarm rings in the morning, it’s the melted makeup when you have a shower, it’s the laughter when you make a joke you’re the only one who can understand, beauty is meeting his gaze and stopping understanding, beauty is your gaze when you see him, it’s when you cry for all you paranoias, beauty is the lines marked by time. Beauty is what we feel in the inside which also shows outside us. Beauty is the marks the life leaves on us, all the kicks and the caresses the memories leave us. Beauty is letting yourself live.

I just realized that I love you but I can’t stand you. Basically we both can’t.

It’s an horrible thing.
I love you from a distance; i love looking at you, the way you laugh, the way you think and tell stories. I love the way you write, the way you wrote those long letters and your manners and all the little things.
But everytime we’re too close, every single time we’re together something wrong happens. We just can’t work out but we both want to. It’s a kind of tragedy; it just never will, no matter how much we want it to. There’s something we can’t control.

It’s crazy how gentle you are, and the sweetest human being I ever met but how insane and weak you make me feel. I feel as much anger as tenderness towards you. It totally breaks me down and hurt me to the bones. I’m too fragile for that.

I can’t figure out how to live with you, and how to live without you. I can’t function without you but you make me a mess.

I don’t know what to do, my dear.