When Tough Love Turns Poetic. In a blood, guts, and broken-ego kinda way.




These are lines cut-and-pasted (and artfully arranged, of course; I can never just leave well enough alone) from one side of an old IM conversation. It struck me that they are beautiful, in a slashed-hope/floundering-pride/bruising-advice kind of way.

he will tire of what is easy


[yet he lies easily and doesn’t tire of that]


you want it to be true no matter what he does or how he acts

desperately hoping you are wrong about him

but you are not

it is the truth

[the truth: you don’t just want to fuck him

you want so much more]

fooling yourself to think you control this but he does

you ride him for as long as you can

obviously he just watched

he doesn’t even respect you

he thinks you are stupid and will believe his bullshit

he isn’t as smart as you but thinks he is

you want to fuck him and you want him to love you so don’t do anything that you don’t want to do

even if it hurts you

if it is what you want then do it…

just don’t tell me that he tells you he loves you and how wonderful he is because he isn’t

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