Things Left Unsaid.

Some words created from or simply appreciated by my heart.

Trying not to fall out of the idea of love.

Love is not a profession
genteel or otherwise

sex is not dentistry
the slick filling of aches and cavities

you are not my doctor
you are not my cure,

nobody has that
power, you are merely a fellow/traveler.

—Margaret Atwood, “Is/Not” (via h-o-r-n-g-r-y)

(Source: feellng, via h-o-r-n-g-r-y)

I’m torturing myself again, most likely for nothing. You have proven to me that you are kind and trustworthy, I have only shown you a side of selfishness and insecurity. You are still here. But that’s also not enough reason for me to want to stay either. Just because we are both here does not mean we should settle. But maybe it’s not settling? Maybe it’s

I don’t remember the sound of your voice or the smell of your cologne, I don’t remember the way you laugh or the way you smile, I don’t remember any of the things you said to me, & to be honest, I don’t remember how I felt whenever I fell for you, but after everything, I do remember how I felt whenever you left.