b.s. wright

I once loved a boy that scarred me more
than the first time I rode a bike and fell.
He was oceans and skies and rain falling
and all was him, and nothing would ever not be.

All he said meant all it didn’t and all he was
marked my body with scissors and blades.

I grew to understand that love isn’t broken
ribs and heavy hearts in cages. It took so
much of me. I left behind all I was to become
what I didn’t remember existed before him.

But yesterday my father cleaned my tears and
said, “I’m so proud of you, my love” and that’s
all I want. All I want is to be enough for someone.

—  love doesn’t always have to be, B.S. Wright
1. Stop hiding yourself behind those closed eyelids. Open your palms to a world that is full and whole and yours. Take care of it. Take care of yourself.
2. Leave behind the roots of loves that didn’t allow you to grow. Hold yourself higher than the sky, become the stars that make you.
3. Work hard. Study hard. Dream and get what you once wished. Be better than what you thought you were yesterday.
4. Love yourself. Love other girls, other boys. Spread your love like mist on a cloudy day. Grow trees and flowers and close relationships with who you trust will catch you when you break.
5. Cry because of a book or a film or real life. It’s okay. Fill empty buckets with the salty poison that was eating away your sanity. Be emotional. Be human. Be because you are.
6. Do not allow anyone to drown your freedom to choose. Love who you want. Dress what you want. Eat what you want. Become the tides that rule the seas.
—  6 things I should have said to myself yesterday and the day before, B.S. Wright
1. His fingers are made of flesh and bone but they mold like paper beneath mine.
2. His smile reaches his lips and his eyes and the tips of his toes, much like he carried honey inside his palms.
3. His laugh is a repeated echo behind my eyelids.
4. His steadiness softens the hurricanes I create within myself.
5. His voice spreads like sugar in his throat even when he’s told he has a bitter tongue.
6. His lips give birth to fairytales without endings.
7. His kisses are tides and waves and beautiful.
8. He cries for the dead he learned to love inside his books.
9. His eyes are stardust and broken galaxies with a single star.
10. His presence brings back summer and leaves a taste of sand in my mouth.
—  Why do I love him? Let me count the ways, B.S. Wright