The Joy Scribbles

They're a number of love stories I've told but never ours. It's my favorite one.  Its the only one that ends without a sour taste in my mouth. The only one I still pray for. I pray for you. Did you know? Do you ever hear my prayers? I pray the way mother's pray for their children and women pray for their husbands. Prayer is a woman's best firearm is something my mother says. I don't think she meant for me to use all my Ammo protecting you. I don't think she meant for me to pray for you so hard. But, I find sanity in knowing that even in the moments when  I choose myself over loving you God will love you for me. In the moments when you would look to me look to him. I'm not nearly responsible to hold your heart in my hands without dropping it. I fear I already have, but I want you to know. All these years later, All these boys later, ' All these scars later, there's not a smile in the world that warms my heart more than yours....

Dear Darling, You have convinced yourself that there is nothing more to you than him. But I am here to remind you that he is the stale taste of overnight cigarettes and the heavy presence of vodka on a sunday morning. And you? You are the sun and stars. A whole Galaxy. A swirl of places I could hide myself in. He tried to set you on fire didn't he? He tried to burn down your barricades and when you didn't break he fed you love in the form of roses, wine, Brazilian weaves and luxuries you never needed. He tried to coax you out of your safe room, Didn't he? He tried to fatten you up with insecurities so there would be no space for self love in there. Why did no one tell him you were a volcanoe? And that no one had survived your erruptions? Why did no one tell him that broken boys can't love strong women? Didn't he know? Didn't he see you would break him? Didn't he see you were not the kind of horse that could be tamed? Cause I did. I saw it the moment yo...

I am trying to teach you not to hold on to boys that bury their troubles between your thighs. I am trying to teach you fierce. I don't know, maybe even strong. I am trying to teach you that if no one will warm your feet you have to wear socks. I am trying to teach you that you're worth more than 30 minutes of sweat and not even a five minute nap. I am trying to teach you that you don't have to love anyone back. That "it's complicated" is not "I like you" and everything before "but"is a lie. I am trying darling... But you're stuck in your ways you cry on shoulders that forget to text you back. and pay for drinks you never drink. I am trying to teach you that box never saved a man or fixed him. That your cooking never loved him. that your texts are an annoyance I am trying to teach you' that you are worthy of yourself darling. when will you learn? when will you know? Not to find comfort in mediocr...

Dear Crush, I don't want to write this. This letter would remind me too much of how we began in endless possibilities and ended in Nothing.  I've got a thing for boys who read books, speak multiple languages and smell good. You are all of those. But it seems I've also got a taste for men with no taste for me. Do I taste dull? Do I taste stale while you taste like candy floss? Soft and sweet but so incredibly unhealthy. So incredibly unhealthy how many times you want to be just friends while your hand is in my pants and there's tequila in my breath. I use to think you were awesome and it makes me sad to watch your light flicker the faster I run away. I wanted to be friends. But you lied. I can't stand lies. Not when I'm giving you all of myself. I can't stand lies. Not when I'm giving all of myself. _ Nothing