written on polaroids

im olivia and i write things

[poeticpolaroids]

There’s something about a rainy night in a city. Reflections of car lights bouncing off the roads, steamed windows with life behind the glass. The distant sound of car horns and the mutter of conversations and the smell of food emerging from restaurants.

New York, NY.

[poeticpolaroids]

Him

I refuse to use the cliche of ‘he saved me’, he didn’t. I saved me, he just helped me stitch up the wounds. I saved me - I stopped myself from drowning, and brought my head up from above the water. But when I woke, he was the first face that I saw and the only face I wanted to see for as long as I could. He might not have saved me, but he did love me. And that was enough.