I was beautiful when I woke up sleepy eyed and tangled in your sheets every Tuesday. I was beautiful with my hair wet and mascara pooled around my eyes. I was beautiful laughing with your mother and I was beautiful with the car windows rolled down driving us home from the city. I was even beautiful when my cheeks were red and my eyes heavy with the burden of holding back tears, hauling out my things in boxes and trash bags while you sat and watched. It was you that was ugly. It was you with your deceit, weaving promises with your loneliness, blanketing me in it and kissing my cheek good night. You taught me a lot of things that winter, the coldest of which was that love doesn’t always sprout from pure places. Some people love like lotus flowers, blossoming in even the murkiest of waters. Some people love like venus flytraps, hungry and feeding on wings. It was not my fault for flying by.
“It Was Not My Fault" by Stevie Lorann (via larmoyante)