to the girls afraid of dying

i.
I know that look.
I know what it means to be that kind of starving—
to fling open your arms and dare the sky
to meet you.
I know the fear of the sky
roaring back.
I do not know you, but I know you.

ii.
He is all false compliments, he is all hands.
But your hips are not an oasis, made for him
to come and drink.
Though his hands seem to sink in
to the sand dunes of your skin, your body
is not a desert.
You will believe him when he says
this is all you have to offer.
Drown him.
You were never sand dunes.
You were the sea.

iii.
Cut off all your hair.
Trade in your lion’s mane for a crown
of your darkest secrets.
Wear it like the proudest thing you’ve ever loved.
Learn to love the soft prickle of the short hairs
at the nape of your neck.
Touch them softly.
Learn to love yourself, next.

iv.
The bed is yours.
Do not ache for him just because
he tried to make a home in it.

v.
The train is coming and you are in it.
The train is coming and you are on the tracks.
You have to make a decision, baby.
Sure, the train has smoke and steel and pistons,
but you are taller,
you, surely,
can find your way back.

TO THE GIRLS AFRAID OF DYING, by Ashe Vernon (via latenightcornerstore)

2 days ago346 notes -

The Gods called your name
and the seas turned dark;
the earth quaked with power.

You looked up at Olympus
screaming at the gates;
“What will I become?”

The Gods fell silent, then-
with a thunderous roar replied;
"Who are you now?"

Achilles (via meduesa)

2 days ago4,312 notes -
6 days ago682 notes -
Your mother did not raise you with a wolf in your chest so you could howl over losing a man.

R.I.D (via 5000letters)

(Source: pluiedem)

1 week ago166,526 notes -
When death reached out its hand,
you should have cowered. When you felt the
flames of hell licking at your insides, you were not
supposed to draw closer to the fire.
I watched you disembowel the Earth, saw you pluck
flowers from your mother’s garden and gouge
your fingers into its open wounds,
trying to pry secrets out from the soil.
Everything green started to shrivel
and die when I entered the meadow, but you didn’t
flinch away; instead you kissed me voracious,
like I was something dark you’d tugged
out of reluctant soil.
I wanted your hands, still caked in dirt,
pressing into my naked back.
I thought you’d understand me. Both of us
wanting what we shouldn’t. I know your mother
must have warned you about gods like me.
Tell her I am not a selfish lover. Tell her how
I kneel at your altar and crush the berries
of your hips into wine. That I worship you.
That we spread each other open like flowers
blooming in the night. You wanted to see
what paradise looked like drenched in moonlight,
so I brought you home with me.
When you stood before the gates of hell,
all the beasts lowered their heads
and bowed at your feet.
Everything I have belongs to
you — my wife, my queen.
You are so much flesh and blood,
so much heaving, pulsing, breathing life.
You make the death in me tremble.
I am forever yours.

'Hades' | Anita O. (via deeplystained)

1 week ago2,650 notes -
Don’t mistake my kindness for weakness. I’ll choke you with the same hand I fed you with.

— Anonymous (via suspend)

(Source: levi-has-the-booty)

1 week ago228,087 notes -