love and other natural disasters

We were never meant to last. Our love was like watching a tornado meet a hurricane, messy and disastrous. You were used to being in control and I was sick of being walked on. Every push you made, I pulled back. We fought like the waves of the ocean, crashing down upon one another and where I preferred scathing words and you liked your burning fists, it hurt all the same. We were blind with animalistic lust for each other, tearing into one another at night as a symbol of our chaotic love.
The only sane action we ever made was that night when you told me you’d always love me and I said you were the only one in my heart, and we turned our separate ways knowing that our natural disaster love was made to destroy other people’s homes, not each other.
—  Alexandra Joan Alexander
I’ve found myself choking down bullets and sleeping pills more often than aspirin
and I’ve been picking shards of my broken heart out of my ribs and I’ve been using them to slit my wrists open so I can bleed out onto my favorite dress because you said I always looked good in red
But love wasn’t supposed to mean seeing my mother cry
It wasn’t supposed to mean waking up at 4 am to puke my guts out
Love wasn’t supposed to leave fucking scars
—  Love and other Natural Disasters
I don’t know how to say this any other way;
You fell in love with a natural disaster.
You fell in love with the reason that storms are named after people.
I have destroyed everything that has crossed my path and left nothing but wreckage and questions behind. I have washed away every god damn house that any man has built within my ribcage, but I still have shards of each and every one of them, and they tend to surface every time the skies turn grey.
They crumbled so easily, and allowed my waves to wash them away without any resistance. I suppose their foundation was not strong. How could it be? With eyes only for the skin stretched over my bones, and the idea that I could keep them safe from the storm, they were blinded by the reflection of the sun.
I am not a lifeboat, or shallow water to bask in. I am the storm that they seek protection from. I am nothing more than metaphors and bones, wrapped in skin that has been tainted by the touch of unloving hands.
But you,
you are the moon
and the sun
and the sand beneath my chaos.
You pull me closer when I push myself away.
you are so fucking radiant.
you have not once collapsed beneath the weight of my self destruction.
And although my waves continue to crash over you,
then turn to kiss you right after,
you do not falter or fray.
you simply hold me
and remind me that we were made to coexist
and allow yourself to be engulfed by everything that I am
and for that,
I will never tire of collapsing in to you.
—  Olivia Joelle
I don’t believe in love, I believe in thunderstorms
I believe in lightning scars where we touch, thundering heartbeats shaking the floor
I believe in clothes soaked in feeling, streets running with desire, the smell of not-quite-love-but-something-close in the air
I believe in tears flooding basements, whirlwinds knocking down trees and power lines
I don’t believe in us, I believe in disaster
—  Love and Other Natural Disasters