20 | lesbian | canada | insta: kaitmlo
that was when i knew
as our clothes stuck to our ribcages
and drops of water hugged our hearts
we’d fuckin’ show them
the tide folded in and out as you moved against me, your hips connected to mine, your lips attached to mine, your heart in sync with mine. it was as if there was a dotted line, a missing piece to the puzzle, and you knew exactly where to go. you knew exactly how to fit.
honest to god,
i’m not under the influence, i’m just under you.
i’m not in love, i’m just in love with your lips colliding with my skin
Love isn’t about the sweetness and softness of a kiss against your collar bone or the way words can make love to your ears or the quick-flitting grin that promises more. Love is about the gnashing of teeth, the crashing of limbs, the sharpness and the soreness of two hearts colliding and the dance of hope and despair wreaking havoc with your internal wiring. It’s about promising heaven and giving hell. It’s about leaking frustration from your pores and tripping over sentences, and no, honey, it’s never going to stop hurting and no, you can’t pop any pills for this ache.
You will smash into darkness and make friends with confusion, perfect your poker face and throw pens at the wall and wish they were missiles. There’s art in it, and you will write angry verses and blotch all the ink and wonder if it’s because you’re too insecure, too self-absorbed , if your imperfections have become your identity and if the world is holding its breath waiting for you to
But darling, if you hold on too tight you’ll never get anywhere. Love has never been simple and hearts are spiteful wretches. You’ll toss spite and weep frustration and stitch yourself up a thousand times, and yet in the end you will not be an ice sculpture anymore. People will have smashed you and scorn will have burned you and you’ll have fired bullets of your own.
Nobody promised you an easy ride, and you should never have expected it. But there will be beauty after it all. After the hurricane has thrashed you and your nerves have been jangled beyond recognition, you will patch up those bruised knees and the earth will stop playing jacks with your balance. You will tear off that jaded skin and your bones will grind together but there will be a loveliness to it all the same. And then thatgirl will come along with that bow-legged grace and no, you won’t fall into her arms because your spine has grown used to standing ramrod-straight.
Instead you’ll walk forward and meet her halfway. You’ll carry an umbrella against the hurricane and then you’ll toss it away. You won’t need those precautions because you’ll have thrown gasoline at the sun and watched it all burn and then raised yourself, like a phoenix, from the ashes of what used to be. It won’t have been pretty, and it won’t have been easy, but you will be born again. Your skin will be rough and your heart will be tough, but you’ll have risen from the smoke a survivor.
There will be nothing sweet or easy about it,
because love is a whirlwind
but someday you will learn to fly.