where you invest your love, you invest your life.

You grow up and you aren’t what
you said you wanted to be.
You grow up and you want to start
all over again.
They took away the dance in you
and they laughed when you tried to bring the music back.
So you paint pictures in gasoline
and wait for the fire.
So you wait for somebody to show up
and find empty doorways.
So you call your mother and almost tell
her about the monster under your bed,
how it won’t stop growling even
after the sun comes up.
This is what is left.
And the years go on and you almost
think you aren’t going to get better.
You almost think that whatever
has it’s claws in you won’t let go.
But the bruises melt back into your skin
and the broken limbs heal
and your hands find each other
again and again until
that feeling of loneliness
was just an aching dream you
had a few years back
that you can only remember in flashes, but never enough for it to stay.

—Y.Z, first aid kit (via rustyvoices)

(via alyanndarling)

not wanting me
the beginning of me
wanting myself
thank you

—Nayyirah Waheed (via observando)

It’s not about what you’re capable of, it’s about what you are willing to endure.

—Orrin Woodward (via purplebuddhaproject)

(via jheneaiko)

I like too many things and get all confused and hung-up running from one falling star to another til I drop.

—Jack Kerouac (via observando)

They say the pussy has the power,
well my vagina has the velocity, the viscosity,
and the vanity to make you drop to your knees.

My stretch marks are evidence
of my body’s noble effort to hold
so much sensuality,
and boldness, and grace
into 5 feet 6 inches of flesh.
It’s like trying to contain our entire galaxy
in a water bottle.

My thighs are strong enough
to kill a man,
and he’d die happy too.

My breasts are security blanket,
cup holder, wallet, food saver,
buffet, air bags, flotation device,
jewelry box, something to cry into when you’re scared,
pillow, no- fuck pillow- whole mattress,
glove compartment,
and pacifier for the whiny male all rolled into two!

My natural hair is glorious,
you could lose your fingers in its curls,
it’s bigger than your dick,
thicker than your wallet,
and it never gets greasy.

Fun fact: there is a use for calculus after graduation,
and it is to measure the curves of my legs.
The width of my hips that can birth nations.
It’s to discover the infinite possibility
and softness and beauty.
beauty beauty
of this body I was sat on a couch and taught to hate.

You know, there was a time that I was in awe
that someone would actually want to see me naked.
But now I look at myself, arcs, bounce, and rawness
and think “who the fuck wouldn’t”?

I am Venus de of-your-fucking dreams,
I am Athena, birthed from your thoughts and desire.
Always unable to leave your mind.

And like most goddesses,
I learned never to love anything
more than myself.

—Love Letter To Me, Myself, and I (via lohazepoetry)