thank you for creating me
and destroying me
so i may recreate myself.

becoming myself (i am nothing like what you wanted me to think i was) // a.s.m

you taught me to undress the moon
i’m pretty sure i could love you
i’m pretty sure i already do

angus // a.s.m

this story is being written

over me
fingerprints, bruises
a spill of cells that swim
upward

through me
delivering

life that wasn’t here
to begin
with.
is it
mine?

a.s.m

i know you love me,
but it doesn’t make me
feel less alone

sometimes i want to ask you if
you’ve ever been
swallowed whole by something
entirely separate from yourself
but something you know
was born inside you

fermenting in the warm, dark
parts
expanding & shrinking
breathing
feeding
off of words & feelings
you don’t have names or reasons for

sometimes i want to ask you
if there are parts of yourself
you’re not sure you can
control

but

when i look in your eyes
unwavering
like nothing has ever made you
fear
your own mind

i know you love me,

i know you will say
no.

alone // a.s.m

wingedpiglets:

I was the ocean and she was the moon; pulling me in and pushing me away.

Annie Munro, you and i are somewhere between the tides (via wingedpiglets)

Running in Place

wingedpiglets:

why are we always running
from this?
the galaxies behind
our eyelids. the answers
in our breaths. in-out in-out.
constant. steady. being.
there is a universe
within you;
why are you scared of
getting lost?

tucking flowers behind your ears
watching the sun dance in the sky
waiting for the air to clear
i never want to leave your side.

from this hill we see the town
i twist my fingers between yours
to keep myself from falling down
because your love my soul secures.

and when the earth begins to shake
fear will not grip my stuttering heart
because with you i know i’m safe
though the world begins to fall apart.

horsebarn hill // a.s.m (via wingedpiglets)

I Am A Tornado But You Touched Me Like I Was A Flower

wingedpiglets:

I am thick thighs and a mess of hair
bitten nails and bloody thumbs,
clumsy feet and a mind on overdrive–
a tornado is not supposed to be
beautiful.
But you touched me like I was
inside out,
like you had seen my bones
spun from widow’s silk
and feared that
with just your lips you could destroy me.

Miss Scarlett In The Ballroom With The Lead Pipe

wingedpiglets:

I washed the sheets four times (once
for every year you dreamt beside me)
before your smell
no longer lingered.

I deleted all of your
voice messages on my phone, but
they still replay
in my dreams some nights, and
I will always know your texts by heart.

I put all your clothes I gathered over the years, tangible
bits and pieces of you, into a garbage bag
and donated them, but
I still wake up on cold mornings wishing I had
that black jacket of yours.

I tore apart
every picture of us, and still
it took me too long to be able to
convince myself there was no missing
half in all those photos of just me.

I have flipped it so many times, and yet
I cannot get the imprint of
you out of my memory
foam mattress. The outline of your body
etched in chalk on a crime scene.