type poem

Monday 8:27am
I woke up with you on my mind.
You called me babe last night —
my heart is still pounding.

Tuesday 10:53pm
Today I realized we won’t work.
What we are is hurting her.
And I think she matters more to me than you do.

Wednesday 11:52pm
I broke things off with you today.
She barely said a word.
I’ve never regretted anything more than this.

Thursday 4:03pm
I shouldn’t have sent that message.
You shouldn’t have been so okay with receiving it.

Friday 9:57pm
I almost messaged you today.
I didn’t.

Saturday 8:49pm
I’m walking around town in search of alcohol.
They say that liquor numbs the pain of having a broken heart.
I want to put that to the test.

Sunday 2:32am
I heard you texted a girl you’ve never spoken to before.
I wonder if it’s because you’re trying to replace me.
I can’t help but wish you weren’t.
I thought I was irreplaceable.

—  a week with you on my mind, c.j.n.
unclench your fists, my lover, the war is over now. 
     (i’ve forgotten how to uncurl my fingers from the trigger.)
be gentle, my lover, the war is over now.
     (i don’t remember what it’s like not to have gunsteel in my bones.)
come home, my lover, the war is over now.
    (i’m back at the place i left but home is gone where i cannot find it.)
sleep, my lover, the war is over now.
    (the war follows me into sleep. i’m afraid i’ll never leave it behind.)
kiss me, my lover, the war is over now.
    (my fingers still drip red and i do not want to stain you with them.)
—  teach me how to be at peace again ( j.p. )
She’s not the type of girl you’re used to… and you’re not quite sure if you like it or not. She’s not easy to get to know. She’s guarded and closed off… anything even slightly personal is harder to get to than Fort Knox. With her – it’s always one step forwards and two steps back and it’s SO frustrating… But you think maybe you kind of like it… because when you see those little glimpses of her you know you’re probably the only person who ever has.
She can’t be charmed… she’s not that type of girl. She manages to twist your compliments into insults or downplay them into jokes, and again… it’s so frustrating!!! Why can’t she believe that you like her!? Why can’t she just accept that she’s beautiful?
She can’t be bought because again… she’s not that type of girl. Jewelry, flowers, gifts… none of it interests her and she gets angry if you try it. She seems to think it’s effortless, and to her credit she’s kind of right… you’re simply repeating the same rehearsed steps to try and make her like you that you did with every other girl… and it won’t work… because she’s not like other girls.
She’s demure yet provocative… She runs hot and cold… She’s self-conscious, but also self-assured… In fact, she’s just about every contradiction you can possibly think of and yet you’re somehow addicted to this roller coaster ride because you know that even when she’s being the complete opposite of herself she’s still the most ‘real’ woman you think you’ve ever met and you just want to get to know her more. You want to see all of her… get inside her mind… know everything there is to know about her…
But she won’t let you. She’s not that type of girl.
And when the day comes to let her go and kiss her goodbye forever, you can tell she wants to cry… But she won’t… because she’s not that type of girl. She never was. She never will be…
And that’s exactly what you loved about her most.
—  Ranata Suzuki | Not that type of girl
Move on, leave, run away, escape this place… but don’t forget about me, about us, about this town. Always remember where you come from so you can appreciate how far you’ve come.
—  c.j.n.

Sometimes insults sound a lot
like gunshots

and he doesn’t love you
back.  Do not wear your skin
lazy.  Do not ask why.  I am saying:
never talk about yourself in past tense.
Pour your coffee black, no room, pretend
you still know how to hold your own
hands in midday light, it is

alright even if you don’t.  Trigger
warnings like: nighttime, his name.
Trigger warnings like, Eric Church,
Springsteen, I know he never asked
how you’re doing.  Like I know that
they will say he is doing it for you,

bullshit.  Even the silence is loud in
a warzone.  I am saying: you fell for a
coward and came out with deeper stripes
and it is alright if he doesn’t love you back, he
is past tense, held your body with no room to
simply be, you simply mistook his control for
safety; I am saying do not romanticize him
into anything more than an exit wound.  

you are the gun.
Empty the chamber.

—  From Certain Mouths, valentina thompson
You claim to love her, inside and out, but the only time you call her beautiful is when it’s 3 in the morning and I’ve already turned you down.
—  girls tell each other everything, c.j.n.
I don’t know when I stopped being a girl
And started becoming a woman
There’s a blurry gray line separating then and now
I never used to want to look pretty
Never wanted to wear dresses, heels, or mascara
Because, I told myself, I cared about important things
I didn’t want to be pretty, I wanted to be smart
I didn’t want good looks, I wanted good grades
But somewhere along my timeline of existence,
I figured out just how horribly wrong I was
Femininity and intelligence can coexist
I’ll say it again: femininity and intelligence can coexist
You do not have to dull yourself down physically
In order to be respected for your abilities mentally
So, maybe I do know
I stopped being a girl when I realized that acting like one does not mean acting helpless
When I realized that beauty and brains have never been mutually exclusive
And that I look pretty damn great in red lipstick
—  c.r.h.; beauty and brains