On the best nights, you always have empty pockets. Your phone is tossed across a bedspread, your Chapstick in yesterday’s pair of jeans. So when the games of Manhunt in the dark begin, you can run weightless down the path, through the trees.
On the best nights, words are like tea sugar, taken sparingly. Your cousin mutters three curse words into a bush, & you can’t stifle laughter; the two of you stumble, doubled over with giggles, into the flashlight of your captors.
On the best nights, your bathing suit is a borrowed one, unfamiliar strings tickling down your back. Four of you twine hands and jump into the blue-black stillness; the water’s just like wind, only cooler, wetter, weightless. You’re thirteen again, belly-up in the billowing wake, counting the points of the three constellations you can name.
Too many summers you’ve left the fan on even in the chill, telling yourself the white noise will help you soften, make you still. Darling, shut it all off, put your ear to your wrist, listen.
Because in August, the nights will come again that draw you in like a mother, or a lover, that line the dusty boxes of your dreams, that make up the silvery threads of summer held dear. Listen.
Because those nights will be the quietest, but the loudest in your ears.The Best Nights, P.B. (via caelumverse)
it’s pretty common for people discussing rape culture within feminist discourse to conveniently leave out disabled girls, but this is just a casual reminder that disabled women are far more likely to be sexually assaulted, abused or raped than able-bodied women. on top of that, 50% of deaf girls and 54% of deaf boys have been sexually abused or assaulted. so please stop leaving us out of your discussion about rape culture.