1 month ago with 22,470 notes

(Source: sadfrick)

1 month ago with 1 note

seas are the margins of the oceans,
always partially enclosed by land
and we know crashing waves
can tell the truth better than
shaking, trembling
lips and fingers ever could.

5 months ago with 2 notes
Shaking fingers and trembling lips tell the truth.

You told me I’m the girl that’ll be hanging around
a corner of your heart for years to come.
The girl you can call up in the middle of the night -
meet anywhere, laugh, catch up, steal a kiss.
But I’m not. I’m not a real friend and we both made
damn sure of that.
I’m the quiet girl you dated and fucked and occassionally
loved, and were even in love with.
But you were my everything.

6 months ago with 21,497 notes
Had I told the sea
What I felt for you,
It would have left its shores,
Its shells,
Its fish,
And followed me.
Nizar Qabbani (via felicefawn)

(Source: violentwavesofemotion)

6 months ago with 1 note

But now my back’s against the wall
and your heart’s across the ocean
and I can’t make us
slow down
or speed up
and I feel like I’ve got tunnel vision for our future -
or lack there of.

6 months ago with 2 notes

I’ve always broken my own heart;
Tied it to an anchor and pushed it over the boat,
into the water crashing beneath us.
I can’t shake you, but it
doesn’t matter -
I don’t want to.

6 months ago with 2 notes

I. You wanted me to test your
devotion
like a Sunday School teacher testing
for knowledge of prayers and scriptures.
All I could do was ask a question about our past,
the who/what/where/when/why.

II. My cat spent a lot of time sleeping on my chest today,
claws resting against my skin, purrs escaping like the
purrs that escape my mouth
when you brush your hand against my hips.
My lips parted just for you in the dead of night.

III. I let my car run out of gas and started crying
when it wouldn’t turn over. I let myself
run out
of energy and I kept going because I had to
"be responsible."

6 months ago with 3 notes
"Doubt truth to be a liar, but never doubt that I love."

I’m in the body of a teenage girl, though my
mind, soul, heart, body
feel like they’re years older.
Mature, wise.
The thing about being and feeling
older
than I am is that I want relationships that are
far beyond my grasp.

I want your slumbering, soft, warm self next to me each morning,
your hair caramel, messy from sleep.
I want to wake up on cold, early fall days and stand under the shower head,
soaking in you.
Crawl back under the covers, in between mint-striped flannel sheets.
In between me, in between you, nothing but
passion and compassion.

I asked when you knew you were really in love with me, when
it all felt right.
When you knew we would be something “real”.
It was when you told me you were going across the ocean and I still
held on.
You asked why I love you, what it meant to me.
I love you because you’re nothing I deserve
- so caring, kind, warm, tangible -
and everything I need
- so caring, kind, warm, tangible -
It’s not fair to either of us.

It’s hard to answer you calls when
all
i
want
is to undress the second I hear your voice,
your breath over the line.

6 months ago with 4 notes
I’ll keep my legs crossed around you, not to preserve some ideal of modesty and femininity, but to hold back a wave of emotion.

softsweetflower:

We’ll never be anything more than we are now
But we’ll always have the chance to be something
less.
I could spend hours pouring my heart out,
but what difference would it make?
They say a woman is not braille, and so you don’t
have to touch her
in order to love her.
But my skin shudders at the thought of never knowing
your touch again, never feeling the brush of your
skin against it.
When you leave me this next time, there will be no
going back.
I’ll be the the crime scene of the woman who drove her car
right off the road, across the four-lane highway, through the median,
the ditch on the other side welcoming her.
You can’t cross the yellow tape marking it off.
You can’t feel the way my spine arches and the way my legs softly spread
without a silent understanding.
That understanding is that you must be in love with me,
a rule that’s only in place for you.
The deal breaker will be that you aren’t.

6 months ago with 4 notes
I’ll keep my legs crossed around you, not to preserve some ideal of modesty and femininity, but to hold back a wave of emotion.

We’ll never be anything more than we are now
But we’ll always have the chance to be something
less.
I could spend hours pouring my heart out,
but what difference would it make?
They say a woman is not braille, and so you don’t
have to touch her
in order to love her.
But my skin shudders at the thought of never knowing
your touch again, never feeling the brush of your
skin against it.
When you leave me this next time, there will be no
going back.
I’ll be the the crime scene of the woman who drove her car
right off the road, across the four-lane highway, through the median,
the ditch on the other side welcoming her.
You can’t cross the yellow tape marking it off.
You can’t feel the way my spine arches and the way my legs softly spread
without a silent understanding.
That understanding is that you must be in love with me,
a rule that’s only in place for you.
The deal breaker will be that you aren’t.

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