(via thejazzloftproject)
(via thejazzloftproject)
The xx | Unfold
Your daughter is ugly.
She knows loss intimately,
carries whole cities in her belly.
As a child, relatives wouldn’t hold her.
She was splintered wood and sea water.
They said she reminded them of the war.
On her fifteenth birthday you taught her
how to tie her hair like rope
and smoke it over burning frankincense.
You made her gargle rosewater
and while she coughed, said
macaanto girls like you shouldn’t smell
of lonely or empty.
You are her mother.
Why did you not warn her,
hold her like a rotting boat
and tell her that men will not love her
if she is covered in continents,
if her teeth are small colonies,
if her stomach is an island
if her thighs are borders?
What man wants to lay down
and watch the world burn
in his bedroom?
Your daughter’s face is a small riot,
her hands are a civil war,
a refugee camp behind each ear,
a body littered with ugly things
but God,
doesn’t she wear
the world well.
(Source: Spotify)
(Source: somosinfonia, via ladybonerforvangogh)
(Source: sapphoria, via kill-girls)
(Source: ponniegalacticos, via kitty-en-classe)
Sylvia Plath (via oh-girl-among-the-roses)
(Source: raccoonwounds, via melody-of-the-wild-dance)
| What girls say: | I'm fine |
|---|---|
| What girls mean: | I'm too embarrassed to ask for water from your mom because this is the first time I've been over and she's asked me like 500 times if I wanted any and I've been saying no but I'm dying of thirst |
(Source: allswellthatends, via daddyfuckedme)
“You can’t see yourself. You know what you look like because of mirrors and photographs, but out there in the world, as you move among your fellow human beings, whether strangers or friends or the most intimate beloveds, your own face is invisible to you.
Tony Millionaire (via shainareads1001books)
(Source: shainareads, via princesshoneycunt)