It has been a long time
Since my hair has held the scent of cigarette smoke
From the sighed stories of a girl who has seen too much pain
And not enough tenderness.
It always comforts me
To wake in the morning
With that little reminder
That for once I showed love without
Destroying anything.

People are okay with sunsets, and rainstorms, and oceans.
People are not okay with "you are the type of person who first gave people the idea to build temples."
That is how I see you.

I will never get used to the way pettiness lives in the people I love, right along side their depth and beauty and tenderness. The people who write things that fill my heart up, whose thoughts glitter like ice in starlight, whose kindness cuts through the murk of everyday life like something divine... The same people... They are cruel. They are human. They are jealous, and insecure. They are defensive and rash. Those same exquisite, heart wrenchingly lovely people can be ugly, too- more ugly inside than others, just as they are more beautiful inside than others. Those same people can be... Tragically vicious.
I will never get used to it.

Oh.
I will never stop being ashamed to think that girls are beautiful.
That... Hurts more than I can say.

What do I need?
I need someone
To bring roses to.
Someone who will call me a dork
And say I'm sweet
And try to hide how much it means.
Someone who plays it cool
But won't set that rose down on the counter
For fear of breaking it,
As if affection is so fragile.
I need someone to tacitly agree with me
That something's there
And never talk about it-
Just enjoy it with me.
I need someone
Unafraid to break skin
And unashamed of scars
Whether they're mine or hers.
I need someone I'd name a storm after...

I need someone
To bring roses to.

I love the scars on my hands,
They mean I reached for something.

I now know two people
Who have died of selfishness
And it makes me sad.