My Life Is Just [dyes Hair] [unprocessed Childhood Trauma] [eats Pasta] [writes Poetry In The Notes App]

Four days on a friendly farm

Salma Deera, Letters from Medea

.4886 by hildagrahnat on Flickr.

Rialto 

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amsterdam, like a painting 🎨

I had this tiny notebook I kept for when I have something to write about what’s going on with my heart and on the end I wrote, “You’re not the one.”

I threw it away.

I wish I had left earlier before the night you took me to the rooftop of the apartment we were living in to watch the city lights. I wish I wasn’t there in the morning so you did not have to make me coffee. I wish I was somewhere else.

But you’re a pit hole and I hate you.

I wish I had left before I first saw you.

if they don’t let you in, you know where to find me.