/ a love that is both passionate and simple /

/ a love that is both burning and soft /

/ a love that is both exhilarating and calm /

/ being loud in your love /

/ not swallowing anything down anymore /

/ the future /

/ the future /

/ the future /

my mother is always wary of who i date because she wants them to be able to match me. i have always been a lot to handle, like a forest fire. you cannot put me out. boys have tried, not because they want to tear me down but because i am all flash and bang and large, sucking life out of rooms with my loud mouth—big mouth, god do you ever stop talking? and the answer is no, i don’t, because i have a lot to say and not a lot of time. i say i don’t have a lot of time because i am a natural disaster, or a man-made one, depending on how you look at it. i am a tsunami, with waves and flooding and swamp. i stand over people and they run—arrogance, you’re acting out of place. bitch, i am not, unkind royals never last that long; ever read a history book? i will rip you out of your throne like it’s my fucking job. don’t get comfortable up there; i’m swimming around you like a shark. my teeth are sharp and i am ready to taste blood. i am a plane that is probably crash landing, all bump and jerk and fall, unpredictable and scary—is it turbulence or am i actually falling apart. who knows, we’ll find out soon i guess. so my mom wants me to find a guy to match me, because i tend to crush them beneath my thumb and not even know it. i rip their spines out and use them as toothpicks and then complain that they won’t stand up to me, because i haven’t realized i have taken away their ability to stand. my friends would defend them, say they’re blind with love, and i would laugh and say, no, i don’t want somebody who can’t see me, i want somebody who loves me but still does. i have a colossal amount of problems and messes, hence the numerous comparisons to disasters, and i want somebody who can look me in the eye and say, whoa there cowboy, you’re getting a little out of hand, rather than smile and tell me i’m beautiful when i am clearly not acting beautiful. like, bitch, i know i’m beautiful, i don’t need you to tell me that, i need you to tell me i’m being mean to you, i need you to tell me i’m not being the best person, i need you to stop letting me swallow houses whole before you even get through the door. so anyway, i found this guy on tinder and it turns out he’s really good at that. he’s the firefighters to my fire, but like, firefighters who aren’t super good at their job so they just quell the fire rather than put it out. he’s the copilot to my probable plane crash, and he always steers me out of it. i think i’ve found my match. when i open my mouth and start to swallow, he pinches my lips closed and says, hey, i love you but leave some for the rest of us.