"Poems are never just poems. They’re compensating for something. Here are the words I wish I had written in crescent-moon bite marks down your neck. Here are a hundred words for “stay,” and a hundred more for “please.” Here is how I hold a pen. Here is how the pen holds me. Here are my thoughts, over-steeped in empty fervor. Here is nothing and everything all at the same time."
Fragment 5, Kristina Kutateladze (via poignantic)
If you could meet yourself at age five what would you tell yourself?
I wouldn’t tell him anything. He had the right idea, five year old me. Everything he loved was pure and unadulterated. Everything he was meant to go through needed to happen. Sure, I’ve had bad days. Sure, I’ve done bad things. But as terrible and lonely as life can seem, I’m proud of my life. My decisions. My failures. For better and for worse, this is my story, and I wouldn’t tamper with it.
I’d rather sit and listen to him to see what he has to teach me now.