writtenpolaroid
Was I your practice test
Preparing you to love her
In ways you never loved me
Was I your pen
My blood as ink
Writing love letters addressed to her
Was I your safe place
My rib cage cracked open
To shelter and care for you
When no one else would
Or was I just a mere tool
Helping you grow roses
In your garden
Designed for her
K.L, What was I to you? (via missinyouiskillingme)
writtenpolaroid

Three years later, a new girl sits cross-legged on your bed.
She tastes like a different flavor of bubblegum than you are used to.
She opens up a book that you had to read in high school, and a folded picture of us falls out of chapter three.
Now there are two unfinished stories resting in her lap.
Inevitably, she asks, and you tell her.

You say: I dated her a while back.
You don’t say: Sometimes, when I’m holding you, I imagine the smell of her vanilla perfume.

You say: She was younger than me.
You don’t say: The sixteen summers in her bones warmed the eighteen winters my skin had weathered.

You say: It’s nothing now.
You don’t say: But it was everything then.

Some things are better left unsaid. (via missinyouiskillingme)
sassy-wilk

sassy-wilk:

Brad please marry me 😍