I promised myself that I will never latch onto another milk skinned boy who whispers sweet nothings into my ear and call me babygirl. But you tripped into my life and told me someone as pretty as me shouldn’t have such a bitter laugh. You told me the first thing you noticed about people happened to be their eyes and when I caught you investigating my own with a mysterious stare that caught my breath in half way up my wind pipe I questioned what you were looking at and you said the word “home” so fast that my head began to spin and I began to falter and you grabbed my arm to stop the fall. How could a home have such shaky foundations? Then it hit me. The steadiness of your grip confirmed it. You weren’t looking at the home inside me. You were looking at the home you began to piece together for us in the reflection of my eyes.
I’m really scared of how I feel I’m afraid you can taste the gravestones I leave behind (via crackedwords)