Natalia Vela

All I can think about is you. Your kiss. How when you press your lips against mine I can tell you’re different.

it was either acknowledging we were living in hell and calling it home, pretending nothing was out of ordinary in that relationship we called a residence, or trading in the heat in houston for that of new orleans.

New books. Sometimes I think I’ll never stop being numb, but I read something new and it makes me think that maybe I’m wrong.

The cities. The places. Everywhere you’ve always wanted to go to leave behind a tiny part of yourself. Everywhere you’ve always wanted to visit and leave carrying a part of it with you.

You hate him almost as much as you love him, and you hate yourself a little for feeling both things.

I keep a lot to myself. Some profound, some insignificant.

There’s something about feeling dirty that comes close to feeling holy.

maybe we never would have had a chance of making it. maybe two scorpios can’t make a right.

Did they know I was falling out of love before I did?

the way you made your way into that thing i carry underneath my rib cage.

He reframes conversations, memories, or stories to be retold in his favor.

I will treat you like your atoms and mine trace back to the same supernova. Like you’ve always been, and infinitely will remain a part of me.