the first time someone tells you these words I hope you stick out your hand and catch the letters in the air I hope you crunch them in your fist I hope you shove them back into the mouth they flew out of I hope and pray you are not eight years old and hanging off of a shopping cart and groaning about how bored you are, I hope you were not young like I was the first time I read a magazine on a shelf underneath the candy I hope you weren’t young because I still thought everything I read had to be true - but better yet, I hope these words never find you.

They tell you to be strong but it’s the little things like this that sit on our hips and tangle in our hair and feel like bees when the night gets dark. It’s the little things we could never ever shake off because the minute we tried, we discovered there were more waiting for us.


smile more often. I hope the first time someone calls you fat, you shimmy your shoulders and wink and feel like a goddess and take it as a compliment. I hope you are not the new kid in a fifth-grade class, glasses on your nose and your hair in tangles. I hope nobody ever touched your tummy and asked if you were embarrassed by the way it jiggles. I hope if you ever hear those words, you reach out your beautiful fingers and touch the temple of the person talking and ask, “Are you embarrassed your brain works like that?”

See, I have not gained weight since the eight grade and I’m twenty. I have had about four hundred people tell me I’m skinny but it’s only the two or three voices about the thickness of my thighs and the fat on my hips - these are the only voices that stick. Don’t give them that satisfaction. Take a bath. Stare at your reflection. Count the flecks beside your iris. Promise yourself you’re not going to ruin your life - you won’t let them win. Don’t let that moment cause ripples. Yank out the cruelty from your system.


stop faking it. Stop engineering your body to be a call-and-response of bruises and shots. I hope you are not fifteen the first time a boy kisses you hard. I hope you do not go home with a bloody mouth and spend the rest of your life thinking love is stained with iron. I hope you are not swallowing your sanity to be with somebody. I hope the first time you let someone touch you, they are someone worthy of your trust - I hope that nobody tries to force you into a label like “frigid” or “slut.”

In the animal world, most males have bright plumage so they can attract mates. In humans, we expect ladies to look a certain way. When you break out of the norm, suddenly you’re rattling chains. How dare you not want sex and still look this way. Maybe people are scared of admitting your body has power - it can turn heads in a baggy sweatshirt. Your body doesn’t need a magazine’s confirmation. Your body’s been through hell and still keeps on living. Put on your heels and stalk down the sidewalk. Take off your makeup. Do what you need to feel awesome.


ignore everything they tell you. Don’t let them in.

Maybe one day I’ll make a list of every single terrible magazine I’ve read. I think I’m gonna start an advice column called “If it makes them money, it’s probably not good.” /// r.i.d

(Source: inkskinned, via backshelfpoet)

58,076 notes

(Source:, via nevver)

I’ve been listening to the same album for two weeks and the CD is a little scratched but yesterday was the first time in four years I didn’t speed while I was driving
I think I’m slowing down
my heart doesn’t fight with my rib cage anymore
its calmed down
settled like a pearl in a jewelry box
we dissected a pig in lab the other day and all I could think was has anyone ever realized before that lungs look like butterfly wings
I pictured my own fluttering when I breathe
coffee is in all of my poems but the truth is I’ve started to drink more tea
the honey drips from my spoon and onto my lips and if anyone kissed me, they’d get stuck for a millisecond before they pulled away sticky and just a little wet
I think they might like it
they’d feel my lips even after I was gone and this is taking into consideration that the kind of kisses I give these days are the kind that someone would want to feel after I’m gone
my dad told me to think of my life as a tree
honey you have to cut the branches that weigh you down
and I did
and guess what
I’m thinking of painting my nails a light blue like the sky in the morning
to be honest I only know the sky is light blue in the morning because other people have told me
I’ve made it a rule to never open my eyes before 9 and I usually don’t shut them before 12
last week in class my teacher said what age would you be if you didn’t know what age you were
and one kid said I feel like I’m 65, my back hurts
and another said I think I might be 7, I still love to color outside of the lines
and when she asked me I said I feel exactly the age I am
and I really do, I’m 20
and what that means is I’m an adult sometimes like when I remember to put in my retainers before bed or when I wash all the dishes before they start to spill out of the sink and onto the counters
but then sometimes I fuck up for lack of a better term
actually, let me think of a better term
I mess around, that’s what I do
last Friday I licked the top of my hand and drizzled tiny pebbles of salt onto it,
poured tequila into my mouth and bit into a lime
laughed with my friends and the world was spinning a little but I loved it
a boy dropped me off at home at 4:30 in the morning and when I woke up a couple of hours later I still smelled like tequila
I think I like myself best a little off balance Fortesa Latifi - I Like Myself Best a Little Off Balance 

(Source: madgirlf, via madgirlf)

527 notes
Can you honestly love a dishonest thing? John Steinbeck

(Source: larmoyante, via minidlamini)

2,724 notes
Don’t you dare, for one minute,
believe that my kindness makes me
anything but insurmountable.
I did not unzip my chest to every kind of hurt,
and stagger back, wounded and alive,
just to hear you call me weak for trying.
I opened my door to Heartache—
I gave her the fucking key.
My softness for wayward strangers
has made me nothing less
than a halfway house for aching soles.
So when you open your mouth
and call me ‘baby’
understand that I am not your next victim
in a laundry list of broken girls.
You think I don’t know you? People like you?
People with mouths for hands.
I’ve got skin like topsoil
and your teeth could never take root.
So when you go looking to make a plaything
of a sunburst,
you better look for someone with less fire
than me.
Because softness or no,
I will eat you alive
before I let you make a meal of me. Softness, by Ashe Vernon 

(Source: latenightcornerstore, via 5000letters)

3,835 notes
As black girls we must never forget that being dark will never be a synonymous term for being ugly. Nydhea McRae 

(Source: sure-alright-okay, via neonnubian)

3,115 notes


this was not a love,

this was a thing we did to kill time between
the wars we waged against our own bodies.
the best of intentions,
gone rancid. i forgave myself
and stopped trying to throw my own skin out with the bath water.

i learned to hold my breath
when you put your hands away. i forgive you.
my hair is shorter now, my ears all marked up with metal.
my throat is clean of your name. i forgive you.

now i am mine to keep.
i forgive you. i am mine to keep. i forgive you.
go home.

42 notes
Please stop calling.
Don’t you see? Your home is not in my bones anymore. Baby, it was good while it lasted, but I cannot swallow the distance between us or the anger that climbs up my throat when I know you’ve only fallen in love with the idea of me. I don’t even know what your voice sounds like; I used to dream about kissing you, but now your text messages make me flinch. We weren’t meant for this. Lock your doors against my ghost and find a girl who won’t be afraid to tell you her real name. I wasn’t born to be your shelter. I know I promised forever to you with ink and blood, but I’ve always had a liar’s mouth – it’s part of being a poet. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m no good at this. I’m sorry.
Please stop calling.
Please stop calling. I Deleted Your Number, I Wish You’d Do the Same
354 notes

One day you will
meet someone
who glows with a
light that sets fire
to your heart, and
if you are lucky,
you will spend the
rest of your life
next to this person,
warmed by a light
that can never die.

I pray that when you
find this person,
they never leave;
because the sad truth is,
most of the time we meet
someone who lights a room
within our hearts and it’s
inside this room we remain.

The sad truth is,
we spend the rest
of our lives warmed by
a fire lit by someone
who only stuck around
to share a spark.

 ||  Maza-Dohta 

(via maza-dohta)

1,791 notes

(Source:, via nevver)

I want you. That doesn’t mean that I do not appreciate and love others, but sometimes I simply want you, you alone. It means I want to be alone with you and it means I need some time for us. Because I love us, I love us in terms of us simply being and socializing with others and sharing what there is to share throughout our days but sometimes I want us even more. I want us to the point of truly, deeply just wanting us and I don’t know whether that’s possessive but you live in my brain too much and I’m probably overthinking this just as usual but it still comes back to being what it is. I cherish everything. I want you to know that. I cherish our mutual acquaintances and friends, I cherish our distinct moments throughout the day, I cherish the little gaps and the pauses and I cherish the flow of it all and I absolutely cherish the fact that you’ve made me part of your life and the fact that you’ve given me the opportunity to experience myself whilst experiencing and exploring the world of yours but, shit, sometimes I want you so much. I choose you too much. I love you too much and, sometimes, just sometimes, the intensity is unbearable and I don’t quite succeed in not leting it transfix me to the depths of my soul and I don’t quite succeed in having to appear confident in myself and kind to the people we both care about when I know they’re not the ones to actually blame for my not being present or cheerful enough during such moments, and I am sorry for not pretending enough when I solely wish to spend a quiet, uneventful day of silence and lovely routine with you and I am sorry I am not sorry, I’ve been wanting you for so long. All These Things You Wish You’d Say
1,741 notes
3. When he asks to see your body, show him your fists.
10 Things I Wish My Mother Had Taught Me | d.a.s 
4,019 notes
4. Do not try to be pretty. You weren’t meant to be pretty; you were meant to burn down the earth and graffiti the sky. Don’t let anyone ever simplify you to just “pretty.”
10 Things I Wish My Mother Had Taught Me | d.a.s
4,019 notes
8. ‘No’ is your friend. Practice saying it in the mirror so it will slip out like venom when he puts his hands on you.
10 Things I Wish My Mother Had Taught Me | d.a.s
4,019 notes