Perhaps magic is in the habit of choosing sharp-eyed girls who ask too many questions for their own good. Perhaps it chooses girls who are not unloved, but not fully loved either.
And often when she finds herself missing him, missing the good moments with him, she whispers to herself, ‘The absence of you has taught me how to love myself. So thank you, my darling, my dearest.
We do not abandon those who truly accept us for who we are, and if you could save all the people who accepted you completely, wouldn’t you go back to save them too?
Survival is ugly. Healing is messy. Self-love is complicated. It is your hardest days as much as your best days that help you grow. All of this is part of being human.
If you think the value of a woman is only in the curve of her hips and the shape of her breasts, you do not understand how to read beneath her jagged lines, the sacred geometry that make up her glorious heart and her beautiful mind.
Lies are often truth-shaped. They’re only containers you must turn inside out and shake till the truth tumbles out, wide eyed and confused, blinking in a light it never thought it would see.
Perfection in imperfection. Someone whose flaws work well with yours. Infuse modern love with the hues of older romance. An agency that offers something real in a world that was increasingly becoming plastic.
I used to only pick up a pen for myself but now I pick one up for you too. Is there such a thing as an unselfish love poem? I don’t know, but I’m trying.
