i will hide here.

http://honeypiee.tumblr.com/post/96976980415/21-riding-on-the-handlebars-of-your-bicycle →

honeypiee:

21

Riding on the handlebars of your bicycle
Playing basketball in tights with strangers
Going out into the phosphorescent ocean at 3 am
Riding our bikes to the bar at 1am when I have to be up at 6am
All the things you pressure me to do because you know I’ll feel alive

I am stretching out my…

Sep 9th at 9AM / via: honeypiee / op: honeypiee / reblog / 2 notes

I feel really swirly which means smothering which means I always always want to be with you, rain or shine, sick or healthy.
Everything reminds me of you and I keep holding my tongue but I always want your hand on my back or you inside of my body and
Sometimes when you cum all I think about is “I don’t know if I’d have his kid”
You’re a wild man, your friend is writing a movie about you—the great ape. That’s what you are in his movie.
When you look down on me and smile and call me beautiful I’ve never felt more completely satisfied and insatiable
My whole body is screaming your name, every atom but
It’s only been maybe a week and a half so I feel fucking crazy.

I want you
I want y o u
I want you so bad it’s driving me mad
It’s driving me m a d .

Another boy brought me soup to work and he said last night “I’m sorry we had sex so soon, I really felt like I lost out on getting to know you—which is what I want to do now, I want to be your friend and I want to take care of you.”
But what if its more important to me
That I have sex with you twice a day, morning and night
And that you take me out for French fries when I’m sad
And you make fun of me when I can’t finish them
And you pour hot sauce in my ketchup so I can get used to spicy food so we can go on a date and eat spicy Chinese food together.
What if I’d rather have your room mates say they want to see my boobs then say “she’s so great, don’t break her heart”
What if I’d rather have someone who moves his hips in a figure 8 and makes me cum from sex than someone who’s only had sex consistently with me and who is kind of bad—just new at it

I hate feeling this and I love feeling it
I wish I knew how to yell at you so you’d want me
And I feel myself changing shape again ( or am I just growing )

I want you in bathroom stalls and in church parking lots
I want your family insignia on my thigh

These are all my secret thoughts
In the dark typed out with a cigarette
Cause I’m not ready for bed yet cause
You’re not there
You’re outside in the night and
The closest I can get to you this second is staring at the stars so I’m staring into a black void
Wishing you would swallow me whole

nickelback:

boys always say that leggings and uggs are the “”“white girl uniform”“” but like

Jun 22nd at 11AM / via: orlandoshroom / op: nickelback / reblog / 5,611 notes

From the mouse upstairs

I’m learning lessons from a mouse
Like how to hide from people when I’m afraid
Like how to take my scraps of bread in the dark.
Like how to leave little d r o p p i n g s
Of myself
For you to find.

I left my neighbor coffee beans.
I leave my man my misgivings, the remains of how I know to love.

Sometimes I feel all dried up
Even at the age of 21.

I’m sorry I’m talking to the boy you like
After work at the bar.
Sometimes it’s easier to listen to him talk big, and ask questions that I already know the answer to
Sometimes it’s easier to hide from the people you really want.

I’m sorry I leave you presents and then disappear
Sometimes it’s easier stealing scraps in the dark.

Little mouse upstairs
That doesn’t tell people what she needs.
Little mouse upstairs
Plump from hormones and bread crumbs
Little mouse upstairs
No mouse family
No mouse mother
No mouse husband
No mouse brothers

Can you feel all this empty space?

The abyss of silence,
Filled with every voiceless desire
Screams into me today.

Once there was a boy who loved this little mouse
And left not only bread scraps, but flesh and blood and bone
I never knew what it felt like
To be seen.

It’s hard to be seen again, and again, and again.
It’s easier taking my scraps in the dark.

Little mouse
Joins god
For coffee and potato chips
At the unholy hours of night.

Little mouse is seen by god,
And for this she is told she must be happy.

Saying that its enough to be seen by god
Is empty
But maybe truth is that way at times.

tough love and boundaries;

because you’re old enough to remember by yourself.

because you’re old enough to provide for yourself.

because you’re old enough to know something for yourself.

that’s why 

when i brought my own towel to shower,

and you forgot to grab one, assuming you could share,

i let you use my towel but made you go get another for me

even when you whined, “why won’t you just go get it?”

that’s why

when i cooked you breakfast, 

and did every dish but the handful that we used to eat,

i asked you to do the dishes and left you alone at the sink,

even when you whined, “but i have to go soon.”

that’s why

when you stained your friend’s sheets

and stuck them in the washer to clean them,

i dragged you to the laundry room and taught you how to use the washer

even when you whined, “i don’t even need to know how to do this.”

//

tough love 

feels better

than too tender.

too tender has no boundaries,

when she draws a beautiful picture in the sand,

the ocean does not even notice when its water rushes through to ruin it

and too tender keeps drawing pictures,

and the ocean keeps not noticing.

tough love has a fence,

and a garden full of herbs and vegetables behind it.

she invites you in through the gate, 

she cooks you a meal with the fruits of her spirit,

and she tells you when its time to leave

and tough love does not feel guilty about it.

May 18th at 12PM / reblog / 1 note

the problem with dating charming people:

charm is something that you typically only notice when you’re actually standing in front of them. therefore, when a friend sees a picture of an ugly boyfriend, she may cringe; the friend meets the boyfriend in person, and can see why you’re dating him. “he’s charming.” he gets cuter the more you talk to him, to a certain degree.

and THAT is what i don’t think you can trust. 

my friends who have met my current boo thing are the friends who are excited im with him.

my friends who have never met him, however, are not fans. i have tried to give an equal amount of good information (ie, “he bought me dinner, he’s so cute, he doesn’t treat me like im crazy, etc”), and bad information.

examples of what these friends have said:

  • "he orders chai lattes, and he doesn’t give you the time of day.. thumbs down. drop him."
  • "man, the more you tell me about this guy, the less i like him."

so i am attempting to discern if this is just a case of charm. is he really a good guy, or do i just think that when he’s around and feel like shit when he’s not? (bingo.)

a prophetic poem i will not send, but i believe it will travel through the air tonight and braid your hair like a big sister while you sleep:

i used to hate you because you look just like i used to,

but now i am sorry because you look like i used to

with your short curled hair matted around your face,

charcoal and ink stains on your hands.

you will create more out of this dust.

be glad this was not buried deep

be glad your soul is not his to keep

you are not broken, you are not small

you are amazing and bright

his hands will not burn you any more

his words are not allowed to scald you any more

sweet angel, the Beloved desires

to tell you about His love for you.

will you listen, oh please?

(if you can not, i will ask Him to whisper in your ear when you sleep

He streams His love across for you like a banner

in the morning, it adorns your walls, though it may seem invisible at times,

and at night it cradles you and keeps you warm and cool at the same time.)

the fever is breaking.

and now you are sweating out the lies.

when this is all over i swear

your smile will look like a bouquet of wildflowers.

thedbldee:

It happens.

Apr 30th at 7PM / via: hyperbolequeen / op: thedbldee / reblog / 6,933 notes
thankful for slow wednesday mornings, counter culture coffee, watercolors, and cocorosie.

View in High Quality →

thankful for slow wednesday mornings, counter culture coffee, watercolors, and cocorosie.

Apr 30th at 11AM / reblog / 1 note

you wanted to know what changed,

what’s wrong.

but nothing changed

i just became a little more hidden.

i learned when a man asks for more, but does not give more himself,

the best thing to do is

step away

and wait.

darling, if you knew.

//

you said it didn’t matter

he was my friend before you came into the picture

darling, if you knew.

you said you and i, we weren’t really together

so i could do whatever i wanted, you called me “doll”

darling, if you knew.

on the phone last night

i told a boy in florida i would drop everything for him;

i had known that since i locked eyes with him at 16.

that didn’t mean that our everything would be good

it just meant that i would always fight for it.

then after wine and your best friend’s favorite movie tonight

we smoked cigarettes on the porch,

and i told him why i feel like a shitty person.

"it’s an asshole move to be trying to date someone when you like their best friend,"

and he just said, “it’s an asshole move to be drinking and watching movies with the girl your best friend is into.”

we left it at that, talking about red flags.

i am one big red flag. 

i dyed my hair red and i prayed you’d see what i see

but you want me to dye my hair back brown

(or blonde, you said, when you tucked my hair behind my ear)

you said any color but this.

cause you’re not a boy who wants a 

red

red

red flag

but i don’t know how to be anything but a

red

red

red flag.

//

darling, every molecule in me wants your breath

but i don’t want your spirit and i don’t want your soul

i don’t want your heart

and i don’t want you to see my spirit and my soul and my heart

i want you to see me in glimpses

like something behind a flittering white veil

a flash of skin

a flash of bone

one big blurry image behind it all.

you seem to be sitting and waiting

but i already unlocked the window,

"i give it six months," a boy told me at work.

so the real question is

do i jump now 

with no arms to carry me when i hit the pavement at the bottom?

or do i keep letting this veil flutter

until your heart can’t take it

and you stand to move the curtain?

(please, do not stand, please do not stand.

darling, if you knew, 

oh darling if you knew.)

//

in the morning i pray this will all be clearer.

i think we all do that, after 12 on sunday nights

but now it’s not just me praying.

a sick triangle.

darling, darling, if you knew.

and now two out of three of us do.

in my head

i walk outside of my coffee shop job

i light a rolled cigarette by the recycling bin.

i feel like i am going to cry because

of a thousand nameless reasons.

all of the nameless reasons have been inside me ever since i realized

it is selfish to stand up for myself.

an idea planted

by the devils who raised me. 

i feel a hand reach and touch my head,

somewhere deep inside of me a voice says,

"honey, it will be okay."

it is a mother’s voice

but it is my voice.

because long ago i figured out

sometimes, if you want a good mother (or lover, or friend)

you have to be your own mother (or lover, or friend).

//

the mother in me

drives my body home, cooks my body a sandwich

even though i am too stressed to hold the sandwich down.

the mother in me

strokes my hair when i vomit into the toilet 

the mother in me

is present when i am crying 

the mother in me

is the one who knows the names of all of my thousand reasons to cry

she calls them out like an elementary school teacher calling attendance

one by one they stand up

one by one she sends them out the door.

the holy spirit inside of me

filling me with the wisdom and grace of a woman i never got to meet

filling me with authority 

//

so i stand up

by the recycling bin

outside of my coffee shop job.

i brush ash off my leggings

i decide to not call out of my second job.

i decide i will go in and tell them what i have needed to say for a month now.

because it is not selfish, it is not selfish

it is not selfish to stand up for myself.