Sarcasm and Sincerity

Prostitute of feelings 

God called me Fish Heart. Lily Mouth. I was an evening sort of girl. He liked me better ripped up, bar bathrooms, bar peanuts, skip the small talk. We’re both Adam. We’re both Eve. In the mornings, swallowing bait, swallowing nails, pulling apart the microwave, two forks and an empty socket. Baby, there is always a limit. Hours spent rubbing my belly, waiting for watermelon trees, or orange bushes, or flowers heavy with green apples. And now, this is what I can dissect: his fingers in the gut of the fish, his fingers in the core of the flower, always pulling. Like it wasn’t enough to feel, like He had to see, to know.

I adore the struggle you carry in yourself. I adore your terrifying sincerity.

Anaïs Nin in a letter to Henry Miller (via creatingaquietmind)

Favorite Things:
coming across the sore spots on my body where you left them last night.

petalpunx:

stay away from people who make you feel like you are hard to love

(via tomorrowed)