It was chaos.

He said I was dangerous,

The way I tightened my ponytail, The way I took a drag of a cigarette, The way I climb into my window when I’m locked out, climbing trash cans and scaling walls, with my cigarette still hanging from my lips.

He whispered and said I was dangerous.

The way I revved my engine, throwing into second gear and red lining it, how exhilarating it was and how quickly he pulled away from my hand.

Then seeing the red and blue lights, speeding up as if it were a game. Because it was.

He laughed and said I was dangerous.

The way I took his hand and led him to the edge of the cliff, kissed him on the cheek and jumped, Laughing on my way down to the water.

He yelled and said I was dangerous.

I didn’t understand why he considered all of that dangerous,
It was normal to me, a routine.
It was how it always was. I suppose we knew danger differently.
His danger was in his head, and in a way, it was normal.
It was routine.

I asked him if he wanted to see me,
He said no, I was dangerous.
And he was it was too much,
That I was too much.
And it’s not the first time I’ve heard that.
I’m always hearing that.
Too much.

It was chaos and it was calling me.

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I’m okay

It was the way her lipstick was uneven.

It was the way she threw her hair up and left one piece dangling,

It was the way our smoke connected.

It was the way we counted kisses, waiting for the stoplight to turn green.

It was the way you pulled me into your darkness, and I lingered, afraid.

It was the way you stared at me through the bonfire,

I saw the fire in your eyes.

It was the way I looked up at you, finding you already looking at me.

It’s those ways that make me miss it.

This.

But I’m okay.

It’s okay.

My lipstick is still uneven,

My hair is a mess,

My smoke strays lonely,

My driving is focused,

My darkness is dissipating, 

My fire is still burning, deeply.

And I’m okay.

white picket fence.

I don’t want a schoolgirl crush where you’re afraid to touch me.

I want spontaneous sex. I want to come home and as soon as you see me you grab me by my hips and bend me over. 

I don’t want to wait by the phone.

I want you to come home to me after a good night with your friends. 

I don’t want your space.

I want to live with you, but I still want to be independent, I cannot live off of someone else like once before.

I don’t want your passwords.

I want you to look at me like you’ve never looked at any girl, and I want you to mean it.

and I want to believe you.

I don’t want to be difficult when we fight,

I want communication and understanding. 

I don’t want to sleep alone.

I want to be able to feel your warmth in the middle of the night and hear your breathing as it lulls me back to sleep.

I don’t want a one night stand. 

I want a dog family where everyone is excited when we get home. 

I don’t want a fake love, with forced messages and meaningless sex. 

I want raw, unfiltered fucking, and soft kisses in between. 

I don’t want a white picket fence.

Here’s your I don’t know.

You’ve mastered the art of slipping away; hidden

It’s a secret you’ve mastered,

You’ve never told anyone because they don’t understand

They don’t get what it means to be hidden in plain sight,

They don’t understand what it’s like to wonder how easily it will be to go, slip by, unnoticed.

Like the piles of clothes you leave on the floor.

Unintentional, of course, but still meaningless, and usually forgotten.

They don’t know.

They don’t know that I’m just a compilation of everyone else’s sleep talk.

I could live off of a life of I don’t know’s.

Oc.8.12.16.

‚ÄčI had a lucidness when I was in Ocean city. 

Of all the things I feared, it was the ocean the most.

The great unknown.

The way the waves would crash into you,

 Holding yourself up so you wouldn’t get pulled under,

Taken by the great blue. 

Swallowed.

Feeling the current pushing you away,

Claiming you.

Looking behind you and diving into a wave and for just a few seconds,

Your feet don’t touch the ground.

You fly.

It’s beautiful. So beautiful. 

With each wave,

I would be carried, always looking back to the north, 

To reclaim my position. 

I’ll lose track of time, 

and direction, 

But it would always bring me back.

Home.

Ruin me.

Oh its such a good thing to be broken.
Its so good to be ruined, to ruin someone.
Maybe not now,  but when you are being put back together, you get the pieces back, more perfect than they were before, because you have learned, you have perfected that lesson. You have mastered the art of getting that part of yourself broken.
You have figured out to mend yourself again, maybe not whole, but enough.
And it may hurt, but its a perfect hurt.
You are gorgeously broken.
And you will be gorgeously put back together,
Perhaps by yourself, by someone else.
We are perfect, simply by the art of messing up and stumbling onto this earth, perfectly.

Intoxication.

“You keep his shirt,
He keeps his word.
And for once you let go,
Of your fears and your ghosts.
One step, not much, but it said enough.
You kissed on sidewalks,
You fight and you talk.
You can hear it in the silence,
You can feel it on the way home,
You can see it with the lights out,
You’re in love.”

I felt his pulse against my lips,
His arms around me and his hands wondering.
I followed him close,
His skin.
All the way up,
To his heart.
And now,
I know its dangerous,
This game were playing,
What were doing,
Because I’m going to get
Addicted.
A few days ago,
He told me he loved me.
And the best thing is that he didn’t mean to say it, it wasn’t forced,
All it did was slip out,
And it was the most graceful slip I’d ever seen.
And I said it back.
Of course I said it back.
And now its intoxicating,
Like I can never fully enjoy anything without him being there to enjoy it too.
Being with him is like learning to fly.
It was exciting and scary,
And I know at some point i might fall,
I might hit the ground to hard and retreat.
Maybe I’m thinking about this at 4:30 in the morning because I’m in love.
I’m most definitely over analyzing it.
And I’m thinking about his crooked smile,
That isn’t crooked at all.
His eyes, the way they look at me like I’m the most amazing thing he’s seen in his life.
His mouth, his lips, his bites, his kisses,
Oh how the list goes
On and on.
How I could never get bored
Of it.
For the first time,
I feel like I’m at a loss for words,
There’s nothing left to do
But move forward,
I’m finally ready for something good.
And what I don’t realize is that he’s already taken me.
That I’ve lost myself in him.
It hasn’t hit me yet, and I’m so devoted.
I felt like I couldn’t get close enough to feel him,
Even when we didn’t have any clothes on. Skin to skin,
I couldn’t get to him enough.
And I’m afraid that because I couldn’t, there’s someone else who could and he will leave.
He says that’ll never happen, that its okay.
He says I’m loyal and he’s loyal too,
And of course he’s right, he’s almost always right.
I told him I don’t want him to ever question my loyalty, that I don’t want to do anything that might possibly sever those chords.
He said he will never question it.
And in that moment,
I forgot why I even doubted him in first place.
When do i decide if I’ve fallen for him.
Well that’s an easy question.
I’ve already fallen into it. Into him.
The semi-precious, eagerness of it. Of the luxurious idea.
An idea that I wasn’t sure I could comprehend.
When did I decide I loved him?
Maybe when I told him bringing her up bothered me,
So he makes sure he does want bring her up. He only talks about her when I ask, and that’s a lot.
Maybe its because he doesn’t think of her anymore, I wouldn’t know.
Or maybe it was when I was in the grocery store and looking for something and after not talking for three hours because we were both busy,
He texts me just to say I’m beautiful.
That’s all.
Maybe it was when he stayed up with me to listen to me read a book and listen when I tell him everything wrong with it.
And he just agreed.
And telling each other to go to bed, but not daring unless the other goes to sleep.
Maybe its when he’s driving and I look over to him.
Its just a content smile while he’s tapping to the beat of the song as we sit in comfortable silence.
Or when were laughing hard at a song that he’s found that isn’t meant to be taken seriously.
He knows the one.
Maybe its when we first made love,
And we just laughed,
And I hit my head, twice,
Never stopping to breathe.
And sometimes I do
Forget to breathe.
Or when I’m wrapped up in his shirt,
And I can smell him, and that smell will be burned forever into my nose, I won’t forget it. And when I smell it, his shirt,
He’s almost here. Almost.
Maybe its just his existence that completely ruins me.
And I let him ruin me. In such a good way.
Maybe I decided when I met him that he was capable of loving me.
The catastrophe I am.
Maybe I’m capable of loving him.
Maybe it was when I let him complete me,
Or when I let him in before I even talked to him,
So easily.
And he knew. Oh how he knew.