Writing || Poetry || Songs
Status: Online
B)
Every part of me wants you.
(via nibr4shi)
Via: lonelyscribblesSource: itsokayifitsgone
You are not brave because you said no, or brave because you ran away, or because you looked love in the face and said “not today.” There is nothing courageous about the way you left me, open handed, palms outwards, waiting. I was standing at your door and I was saying “I will take you as you are if you will do the same for me.” You didn’t know how to. No one had taught you that wanting someone desperately is like sliding out of your clothes and out of your skin and laying yourself at their feet. All skin and no walls. All soul and no teeth, no metal, no keys. No one had shown you how lovely vulnerability can be. How proud it is to be naked in front of someone. Fully clothed, naked. Arms full of heart. Heart full of rain. Body like an olive branch, I am telling you that I love you today. I am telling you that I am not scared to be fragile in front of you. I am telling you that I trust you to look after my gentle. Keep it safe, don’t keep it hidden. They say that giving your name to someone is giving them power over you. I wrote my name on your wrists. I wrote it in your mouth. Whispered it into your ear. I said “here, this is who I am, do what you will with it. I am not scared. I am not frightened.” Even then, even after that, in that quiet rain filled room I watched you stitch yourself back up again and turn away, I watched you do it without me. I kept my hands open anyway, just in case. Here, the mattress is asking you what you’re doing. Here, the walls have known how you sound when you murmur my name. Here, everything is wondering where your brave is. Where has your courage gone? Where is your wolf? I know that you can feel in colours that haven’t been invented yet. I know that you’re trembling beneath your soldier body. I would have loved you enough for the both of us. Until then, I will run through the streets after dark holding a sign that says ‘I SURVIVED LOVING A MAN WHO DID NOT KNOW HOW TO LOVE ME BACK AND IT WAS GLORIOUS.’
Azra.T “not leaving your heart wide open was the most cowardly thing you’ll ever do”  (via 5000letters)
Via: lonelyscribblesSource: 5000letters
we split apart, halved and quartered ourselves into smithereens and mosaics of something that was less like love, and more like salt.
Writingsforwinter (via wildebeastcupcake)
Via: lonelyscribblesSource: wildebeastcupcake
Sleep.

I wonder if you know

how many times your name

crosses my mind at 4 AM.

On Mondays, 20.

On Tuesdays, 35.

On Wednesdays, 50.

On Thursdays, 75.

On Fridays, 100.

On Saturdays, 180.

On Sundays, 200.

You are my everything.

Bet you didn’t know that, either.

If I could be anything I wanted; I would be the one that you love.
william chapman (via williamchapmanwritings)
Via: shattered-soliloquiesSource: williamchapmanwritings
I don’t kiss your neck because
that’s what the girls who don’t
know your last name do. Instead
I kiss your wrist, I pull your hair
too hard, I hold the back of your
head when you curl into my
chest in your sleep. I’m not one
of them. I know the things you
hate about yourself; I know exactly
the things I could say if I wanted
to break you. But I don’t. I kiss you
slowly and don’t put my tongue in
your mouth. I leave your bed salty
but with no lasting teeth marks.
anne, friends that kiss (via anneisrestless)
Via: shattered-soliloquiesSource: anneisrestless
The Seasons;

I often wish you knew me

when it was summer,

and you didn’t wear your shirt,

and you swam in the pool.

I often wish you knew me

when it was winter,

and you wore 3 shirts,

and you stayed inside.

I often wish you knew me

when it was spring,

and you sat beneath the trees,

and you read your favorite books.

I often wish you knew me

when it was autumn,

and you stayed up late,

and did your homework.

But you didn’t know me

then, and you don’t know me now.

I am just a stranger.

Via: shattered-soliloquiesSource: geckomouth
I hold on to the thought of an ‘us’
Tighter than I can hold myself together
(via malfucktioning)
Via: shattered-soliloquiesSource: malfucktioning

just-an-inkling:

The gingerbread soldier marched
In his little cookie cutter lines
Rising only in the heat of the moment
When the moment was right
Firm in his notions, he goes through the motions
Like a perfect product of some set design

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