relationships – Page 4

Milk & Honey – Rupi Kaur

type A

“is she your type?” i ask, motioning to the smokin’ hot YouTube guru i had playing on his desktop

“come here” he says, pulling me to sit on his lap at the edge of his bed

“you are my type” he affirms, wrapping his arms around my waist

“no i’m not” i laugh rolling my eyes, then searching his for a visual contradiction to his words

i find none.

“you are now.” and he kisses me on the cheek

You are the Solution

cliches are born for a reason
they’re cheesy
& lame
& completely out of character

until someone makes you feel the way
you should’ve always felt about another person

they are the reminder
that if what you feel about him
isnt the stuff of love songs on repeat
or throwing pebbles at a girl’s window kind of grand gesture

its not it.
the magic sauce.
the wonderment
& butterflies.

dont settle for your lukewarm feelings

its your heart urging you
to keep lookin’

“I need to know that wherever I end up, in the stars or in the gutter, you’re along for the ride.”

HTKAR

missing people easily isn’t natural for him
& now that i think about it,
it isn’t for me too.

i’ve had boyfriends go on
long family vacations
even deployments
& they’d have to pull the words out of me
“don’t you miss me yet?” they’d ask.
i’d say it because..
you’re supposed to say it.
but it was usually such a relief to have them away
it told me i could be fine without
which i thought was just because i’m reasonable
independent
just slightly emotionally detached.

but with you,
i’m afraid
i may be at the mercy of my feelings
i’m terrified
i may fall apart when you leave.
& the ache will be a throbbing never ending feeling
that can’t be satiated with texts
& quick layover visits
& facetime
& alexa drop-ins

& you’ll think to yourself,
this girl just feels too much
& assume that this is my M.O when people leave me,

but it’s as if my heart just reserved all this,
just for you.

kis·met

ˈkizmit,-ˌmet/

noun

noun: kismet

destiny; fate.

i may not know if this is the forever kind of thing,
but i ask God
that if its in his plan
to please continue to reveal to me
how wonderful you are
each & every day i have the privilege to even look at you
let alone hold your hand.

& if not,
to please be kind,
& grant me the biggest
boldest
most painful sign
that i cant help but acknowledge.

basically
tear you away from me,
in the most brutal way
because im too caught up in this
to ever do it myself.

he only dates with intention
he doesnt waste his time with girls
he doesnt see a possible forever with

hes cautious
& rational
& thinks ten steps ahead

but somewhere
in those plans
in that practical future
he sees a possibility of us.
im a probability
& i want him to bet on my odds.

the internet is for

the greatest contradiction about social media,
is everything is eternal
yet fleeting.

once its out there;
it can be screenshot
shared
reposted
or just glimpsed at
by anyone.
by everyone.

but it documents
our transitions
our aging
weight gain
single
in a relationship
its complicated
single
and so on & so forth

the interweb remembers
the stranger who stumbled upon my facebook remembers
the ex stalking my instagram remembers
so maybe i just always wanted less of me… out there.
to be found, to be seen, to be remembered.

those who matter, know.
i dont need social media as my walking bulletin board, i told myself.

but something about you,
makes me want to open all the windows
& shout from every single platform
how crazy about you i am.
in that annoying,
in your face,
probably bold,
all caps,
don’t-fucking-care-who-unfollows-me-after-this kinda way.

you make me feel
incredibly lucky to be with you
& its the first time
i want to share this moment with the world.

i love that we share inside jokes
& subtle ways of showing affection
it gives me a sense of exclusivity
even if the world doesn't know what to make of us yet.

"Note to self: Always remember how lucky you are to wake up next to someone who thinks you're the shit."

heart pursuit

fact: i’ve never actively pursued anyone before,
unless you count the 7th grade.
i bought one of those fake fundraising roses
& gave it to my 8th grade crush.
“crush” is an appropriate adjective,
for after i left he properly mocked me in front of his friends
& threw it in the trash.

i never considered myself closed off,
but i definitely wised up real fast.
my heart was no longer visible on my sleeve,
a gleaming badge asking to be stolen.
instead.. it was stitched carefully into the inside of the cuff
so i could finger the seams discretely,
reassuring myself it’s still there.

with you,
somehow its made its way to the outside world.
& its a scary place.