send this to an ex, crush, friend, parent, sibling, cousin, teacher. it works for all.
I DIDN’T KNOW WHAT TO EXPECT, BUT IT WASN’T THAT
I want to get a barbershop group together so we can learn and perform this in the street and confuse the shit out of people
i cant fUCKING BREATHE
please don’t send this to a teacher
I have no words
a girl’s feet will tangle yours under sheets you just bought for a night like this. the price tag is still glued to the plastic wrapping stuffed underneath the bed. her feet are frigid and feel like frostbite against your legs when you fall asleep, but they’re like mittens roasted over a fire when the sun blinks through the curtains.
a girl’s legs are taut and thick. they’re flexible and enclose you in a straightjacket at 2 am when they knot around your waist and pull you just a little closer. if she’s still sleeping, it’s even better.
her thighs will make you forget about your calculus homework and your french exam. they will make you forget about your father’s affair or your best friend’s disorders. they will make you forget your name and they will make you forget who you are without them. hold them as tight as you can. i promise, she loves it.
when you were in fourth grade, they taught you stop, drop, and roll at the sign of a fire. when you’re in her bedroom on the second floor, her quivering hips will trick-start a similar fire in your teeth, and you’re going to want to listen to your fourth grade teacher, but don’t. if you stop, whatever it may be that you’re doing, she might kill you.
so in health class, they’re supposed to teach you that your hands will never fit somewhere like they will on a girl’s waist. it doesn’t matter if it’s wide and soft, or small and hard. your hands will adapt to her waist like the heart to your blood. they’ll feel as natural as fingers on an instrument.
sometimes you can see her ribs; sometimes you can’t. they flicker like an old grainy movie under her skin, and they feel like sharp magma in your palms. they’re structure — they protect her. hold her there if you want her to feel like this house isn’t caving in on herself.
her chest. promise her you’d never want anything more or anything less. if you don’t mean it, stop reading, and find someone else.
taste her collarbone. dip in the crevices and valleys and plant trees at the bottom. root down, cherish the nature, and never ever underestimate a girl’s collarbones. they’re a place to sleep when its -11 outside. write scripts on her collarbone. they are forever.
if you don’t know blueprints to her neck with your eyes closed from tracing it with your mouth, you’re doing it wrong. learn it. memorize it. you better know her pulse like counting with your dominant hand. kiss it like it’s her mouth. her neck will change over time, yes. but make sure you can change with it.
kiss her before she brushes her teeth. make fun of her morning breath. kiss her after, and make fun of the flavor of her toothpaste. kiss her when she’s angry and throwing the vase your mother bought her, and kiss her when she can’t stand and she bubbles over with tears like hot water. kiss her if she’s laughing and tell her it’s because she makes you happy. kiss her if she won’t stop talking because you want to taste her voice. kiss her when she isn’t talking because you miss it. kiss her in the shower and kiss her everywhere. if it’s raining, kiss her, and kiss her again when she calls you a cliche. kiss her in public because you want them all to know, and kiss her in private because you don’t need them to either. god, just kiss her on the mouth. nothing else matters. just fucking kiss her.
To my sweet daughter,
If you ever begin to wonder if he is the one, ask yourself:
Does his laughter warm your body from the inside out? He knows that when you say two scoops you really mean three, right? Do you dance in his living room while drinking cheap wine? I hope so, and I hope you’re both drunk and terrible and laughing so hard you cry. Does he tell you how beautiful you are, and if yes, does he say it when the morning light falls upon your face? More importantly, when he tells you, do you believe him? Can you cry in front of him? I hope you can, that means you trust him. When it’s pouring rain does he know that if your hair is curled or your eyes are sad that means he should get the car and bring it to you? When he asks what you want for dinner and you say you aren’t hungry, does he ask if you’ve eaten today? And when you say you had breakfast, I hope he knows you don’t eat breakfast, and makes you a bowl of rice, because that’s your favorite comfort food. Does he kiss you good morning? Good night? Just because? Do you know he likes his coffee black? Unless he wants it cooled, then he will probably want some milk in it, but not too much. Do you know when he prefers tea to coffee? I never quite figured that out with your father, so if you have, you’re a better woman than I. Have you figured out where he’s ticklish? Don’t let him convince you he’s not, I promise you he is. Have you frustrated the hell out of him yet? You will, oh you will, but it’s how you two come out of it that matters. And when he said he loved you for the very first time, did you respond by asking if he’s afraid of heights? I hope with my entire soul that he said yes because that means, despite his fear, he fell for you. Now, darling, you tell me, is he the one?(via lookinggup)
This is my favorite thing ever(via loveisdangerous)