I gaily stomped my Blundstones through the snow after lecture, headed swiftly back to my dorm.
All bundled up in my dad's green crewneck and my new railroad-stripe overalls and the first beanie I'd ever crocheted
Iced lavender latte in one hand, key card in the other, and my earbuds chanting Chappell.
I held the door for the girl behind me a little ways
and she blushed
I walked away smiling to myself at this little femininomenon,
drank the rest of my coffee down, and curled up in my bed to write a love letter I knew I'd never send
musing over the phrase "chivalry is dead"
feeling pity for whosever grandmother first spoke those words
she must have never met a lesbian.

of all the things my hands have held, the best by far is you

our mittens knitted close together,
my hand swiftly (bashfully) offered before you slip and tumble
wholly, giggly and clinging to one another

forever on the brink of pulling the other down,
then crashing as the rest of the world fell away

without for a second letting go of your cool and knitted hand

You've made me love the rain and jumping into puddles. Taking me outside to dance in the downpour. With your drenched curls dripping wet, strands sticking to your forehead.

You've made me love the moon. Her waxing and waning, full or sliver. Eyes like saucers as you gaze up at her, and point out each and every crater. Little walks at night just to see her better.

You've made me love road trips, driving for hours in the middle of nowhere. Listening to Hozier sing his love songs. Excitedly, pointing out every cow we see, and deciding we need to be farmers together.

You've made me love you, with your heart of gold and your smile that lights up every room. I love each moment spent by your side.

I'd drive forever to see you, give all my umbrellas and raincoats away, I'd even lasso the moon

simply because I love you.

"I don't hate men!" it's  just that  well  you see
what's left for me to admire of them?
and I'm tired of playing the jester, I'm tired of playing the host
the mother, babysitter, designated driver, *** toy, but never really a person
always just something to touch
curves to caress and grab and strike
I mean he never cared about my tears or pleas, and I cried every time
still wounded by the irony of planning a future with a man who hasn't yet learned to love
still ****** from the chances I gave and excuses I made, undeserved
gut-punched from the text 'we've had so many conversations about how you deserve better'
and even now I still wish him the best
"I think I'm just more comfortable around women" I explain.

The Cranberries hum their tune
in my mom's Outback Subaru

And I'm scared of growing up,
and I'm scared that I've already grown.

Why are we driving so fast?
Let's linger at the next stop

Let's drive slow, with the windows down,
feel the cold wind mess up your hair.

Turn up the music, let the light in—
I'll be here forever.

she is gorgeous and lovely and so ridiculously good

she's a banjo playing on a front porch
she's cinnamon and sweetness and all things kind
old books and antique stores, pretty rocks
she's piles of bright fallen leaves on a cold autumn day
thrifted sweaters, men's jeans, and denim overalls
she's niche spotify playlists filled with hozier's love songs;
brushing hands with your crush and blushing hard
she's old letters and coffee stains and gifted knick-knacks
the pleasant chatter and laughter of a long drive

she's all things worth romanticizing