The girls swallowed by Whales are the ones that grow up lucky. 

     No one can warn you about the boys with the dopey eyes and the glass cut fists. No one can warn you about how their smiles will always be warmer than their words, or how their glances will always be sweater than their intentions. 

No one can warn you the shier weight you will have to carry. 

     We're the ones who shove fish hooks down our throats in an attempt to lure out of hearts. We're the ones that throw those hooked hearts into the ocean. Regardless of whether or not our message had a bottle. 

     And listen, sometimes fish swallow them. And some of them sink to the bottom of the ocean with the weigh of the world in their stomachs. But sometimes those fish grow wings.

     So, I can tell you to try to grow a feathered heart, but one day, most days, you won't be the girl with wings. Most days you'll understand the deepness if the ocean, and the weeping of the whales. And you can try to break from your heavy bones, and you can try to forget the whales mournful song. But you will fail, and your heavy heart won't even be able to imagine the weightlessness of sea form. 

     So, you can try to unwrap your blackbird feathered heart or unravel the whale song from your heart. But Pangaea will never fit itself together again, and you will never be able to swallow back your heart

     But even if you might not have a sea foam smile, or a hooked feathered heart, you can still throw yourself into the ocean after it. You can chase your weighed heart to the bottom if the sea, you can squeeze out every ounce of song from it, and you can sing your pain into poetry.

     So listen, the girls with heavy hearts will swallow the warm nothings and shove fish hooks down their throats to lure their Pacific weighed hearts out. But the girls with the heavy hearts are the girls who will dive after them. And while they'll sink the whales, hearing the mournful song pour from her eyes, will swallow her.

     And the whale will grow wings.