I think you’ll find a girl who exhales answers instead of a never-ending stream of questions, one whose hands aren’t always ink-stained, one whose heart doesn’t live in her throat, one whose demons are small enough to be tucked into the back of her closet, sealed in a box, only let out once or twice a year when she’s drunk off of cheap wine, a girl who doesn’t feel like her head is going to explode every day, who doesn’t dream about the kitchen knives. You’ll find a girl who doesn’t write poems for you, but that’s okay because she smiles all the time and there is always light in her eyes, never a thunderstorm.
I will try not to blame you when you find this girl because now that I know what a horrible place my own mind is, I could never ask someone else to want to stay there too.
Can u believe there are plants that are illegal
Can you believe there is love that is illegal