The Heart of the World

Tall , Pale , Doe-Eyed

[kosmogrl]

[dieforart]

[voguesessed]

[eclectic-patisserie]

[heavensghost]

Words by Andrea Gibson

[chocoette]

[shitbl0gger]

[lilarrain]

MAY WE PART GENTLY

Shotgun wedding.

Three months in.

We said why not

and meant it.

We thought love was the leap itself.

And maybe it was.

Maybe it was.

We were so young.

So sure.

So soft with our promises.

Everything felt holy

when we lit it ourselves.

No map.

Just fire.

Just faith.

Just you and me and maybe forever.

And for a while,

it worked.

Or it held.

And maybe that’s the same thing.

Maybe holding is enough

until it isn’t.

Now I’m 27,

and the future feels heavier

than it used to.

And I don’t want to carry a life

that feels half full

just because I once called it mine.

I don’t want to stay small

just because I promised I would.

I don’t want to quiet the part of me

that wants more.

That wants more.

That wants more.

They say Saturn returns

to break the spell.

To return you

to yourself.

To ask: what still fits?

What still matters?

What still feels like yours?

Maybe this is my return.

Maybe I won’t return to you.

Not this time.

Not this time.

Not out of spite.

Not out of rage.

But because we deserve more

than the ache we never name.

Because we deserve more

than the version of love

that only half-works.

So may we part gently.

May we part with grace.

May we part while there’s still softness

left to carry.

And if I leave,

it won’t be because I didn’t love you.

It will be because I finally learned:

learned to stay,

learned to breathe,

learned to want.

It will be because I finally learned

how to love myself more.

More than the memory.

More than the myth.

More than the vow.

[lilarrain]

Souvenir

(by the girl they borrowed from)

to be loved like a souvenir

is to be pocketed

pretty

but pointless

a token from a place you don’t plan to return to

I was the place

the city

the experience

you souvenir from

the girl who lent you her canvas, her clothes, her fucking vision board

and said

here

make something beautiful

but don’t forget who gave you the tools

(you forgot.

of course you did.)

you loved me like a keepsake

something to show off when the room was quiet

when it was convenient

when no one else was watching

loved me in lowercase

in drafts

in what-ifs

in “god, I wish we met later in life”

in “you’re too much”

in “you’re not mine”

but I’ll keep the painting

I’m tired of being “that girl”

the one they cry about

then crawl back to

then forget

the one they steal from

then resell at a markup

you don’t love girls like me

you take us

wear us like thrifted jackets

post about us like sunsets

sell us to your next conquest like a fucking Etsy listing

“handmade, sentimental”

to be loved like a souvenir

is to be thanked in silence

erased in public

it’s to be inspirational, but not invited

it’s to watch the canvas you gave away

hang proudly on the wall of the man who made you hate art

and everyone says,

“but it’s just a painting”

“but she’s just selling her work”

“but he’s just supporting a friend”

but no one sees the performance

the placement

the fucking punchline

no one sees the girl who gave the brushes

no one remembers she started the fire

they just sit around it now

toasting marshmallows on your ashes

I’m not a souvenir

I’m the fucking city you took it from

I’m the garage where the canvas dried

I’m the room she cried in

I’m the silence after he left

I’m the one who gave

and gave

and gave

until I had nothing left to frame

and still

you smile

holding the thing I made possible

like it was always yours

like you didn’t burn the bridge

then sell tickets to the view

fuck you

fuck her

and fuck this need to be remembered for what I gave

I’m not a keepsake

I’m the curse

you carry

when the guilt finally finds you.

[izzy444angel]

[heartpdf]

[missrayon-deactivated20240810]

shanna moakler celebrating her divorce from travis barker, 2006.

[fashion-runways]

HANA YAGI 'Sanguine Bride' Collection 2024 if you want to support this blog consider donating to:ko-fi.com/fashionrunways This collection was created by reconstructing wedding dresses and white kimono that had been rented out at wedding halls and then discarded due to damage. In Japan, there is a story that one of the reasons why wedding dresses are white is to express a woman’s purity and innocence and her intention to be dyed by the family she marries into. The dresses were deconstructed, reconnected and dyed with the intention of challenging the patriarchal norms of the wedding ritual. Once dead, the wedding dresses are reincarnated, brought back to life by letting blood flow through them.

[cupidsarrow777]

ᥫ᭡

[yourgoldennotebook]

These women no longer care about being palatable. They’re the ones doing the chewing.

— Joy Williams, in Essay: Woman in Trouble

[machin-egir1]

stamps ✉️

[girlbloggerinterrupted222]