weliveamidst
This is the history of fuck you for

making me soft, for making me maleable,

for doing more than just testing my waters,

fuck you for making the oceans of me

feel so puddle at the sight of you.

This is the history of my mattress,

that has seen more mistakes

than I am sober enough to remember.

This is another man’s neck

and your name whispered against it.

This is not forgetting. This is trying to.

This is not enough ways to give up

as I thought there would be, only the one

with your caller ID and a hangover.

This is the history of love.

This is a rare thing, a history

written by one who did not win.
Ramna Safeer, Written by the Winners (via larmoyante)