"You say: I dated her a while back.
You don’t say: Sometimes, when I’m holding you, I imagine the smell of her vanilla perfume.
You say: She was younger than me.
You don’t say: The sixteen summers in her bones warmed the eighteen winters my skin had weathered.
You say: It’s nothing now.
You don’t say: But it was everything then.”
— Auriel H., Some Things Are Better Left Unsaid
the prayers where we do not wish others well.
for all the brilliant. fetid. noxious. reasons.
the prayers we want to wash from the sky. as soon as they leave our imagination.
the ones born with no bones. so they leave no trace.
the harmful prayers. we pray.
we have been harmed.
we are forgiven those too."
You’re in love with him, and he’s in love with you, and it’s like a tragedy, because you look at him and see the stars, and he looks at you and sees the sun. And you both think the other is just looking at the ground.