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Compliments and presents will never effect me the same way a genuine conversation about your fears will. It’s nice to be adored and flattered but it’s not meaningful. Going to the store to buy a dozen roses for $12.99 isn’t the same as telling someone how scared you were when your parents told you they were getting divorced. Telling someone they have a nice body isn’t the same as admitting you don’t really like your freckles or the the little dent in your chin. Being vulnerable is beautiful. Trying to look beautiful isn’t. I don’t understand how people can pretend to be so happy from all the superficial things in life when it’s the moments we can’t put into words or pictures that are the most wonderful.

One day,
Our goodbyes
Will turn into
Sleepy goodnights
Escaping our tired lips.

Our can I call you’s?
Will turn into
Come here and hold me’s.

Our things
Won’t be
mine or
yours anymore.

One day,
I’ll scream in the middle of the night,
And you
Will pull me close;
tell me everything’s alright
And I’ll fall asleep.
Safe.

One day,
You’ll come home
And tell me we need to get groceries,
We’ll make a list, and tape it to the fridge
But tomorrow we’ll forget it there
And you’ll blame me,
And I’ll blame you
And we’ll spend a hundred because
We couldn’t remember.
And were both too damn impulsive.

One day,
You’ll understand every aspect
Of my condition
But love me all the more.
And I’ll treasure you,
Hold your hand everytime it gets bad
Knowing I am okay,
With you.

One day,
I’ll wake up in the morning,
To the smell of cooking,
I’ll come down the stairs
Of a house we call ours,
And I’ll kiss the love of my life
Good morning
As well as goodnight.

TheLionsPoet (via thelionspoet)

(via highgradelove)