And in that moment, I swear we were infinite.– Stephen Chbosky (The Perks of Being a Wallflower)
Such a change in your actions, reactions. Always wanting to be around me, with me, every day. I just can’t bear to complain. The creaking of your cellar door, cellar door, cellarrr doorrrr.
Am I the only
one who is just sickeningly happy? :/
Inspired by tylerknott, my haiku on love. Seeing you lay there, Holding my heart with your eyes, I need nothing more.
For most of history, Anonymous was a woman.– Virginia Woolf (via quote-book)
In the perfect light at the right angle we can make our shadows dance.– Daily Haiku on Love by Tyler Knott Gregson (via tylerknott)
What is this apprehension I feel? And how does it always creep up on me, clawing at my achile’s heel each and every time. I need to rely upon shared understandings and moments suspended, because there is nothing else to grasp. Those ten seconds where you just look, and I know..those are okay for me. Where your iris expands and you see every inch of me, and I just know.
I will never tire of awakening to your earlier scent lingering on my pillow. When I rise from my dreams of shadows and terror, it is the only safe thing that I know. Maybe the nightmares are of you. But no matter what the horrors that I see, some things are comforting. Your smell is one of few.
a random assortment of unpoetic thoughts
I just read a postsecret that made me cry. I don’t know why, because I don’t think we’ve ever been happier. I guess it just struck a chord. I really need to get this fixed, because I just can’t take it. You’ll be pretty pumped on it too. I’ve cried more today than I have in the past month. Thank you, public schooling and AP classes. Making an appointment...
Your scent is all over me…today it’s making me mad.
(Tails's post reminded me of this.)
When I was younger, I used to have these really vivid dreams that I lived in a giant treehouse. There were dozens of tiny rooms full of everything I had collected. 3 libraries, 4 studios, a room for all of my tea sets, a corner every so often for all of my husbands toys. And all the knotted trees and the primates were our friends. It was just me and my husband, building and sculpting our botanical...
people such assholes? So disappointed in the value of loyalty right now. If it wasn’t hipocritical, I’d list off the handful of people I can count on as genuine. (But then i’d be just like one of you assholes) Stick to your guns. You can’t always try and be liked, cuz eventually you’re gonna have to face the facade you created for yourself and decide which you...
Between then and now are all the perfect moments that lock me to you.– Daily Haiku on Love by Tyler Knott Gregson (via tylerknott)
We slept so calmly last night. I think I only punched you once (on purpose). The same cannot be said for the rest I’m about to get. I’ll be missing your middle-of-the-night-while-sleeping kisses,heavy arms, and morning breath.
Spending all day and night with you, there is no feeling more comfortable. My face is a little itchy from your untamed facial hair, but how could anything so annoying be so welcome. Sitting here in all of your old clothes, I’m sure that I am just imagining your lingering scent in their cotton. Forehead kisses never, ever, ever get old. “Well that’s what we do, we...
Just Because No One Understands You Doesn't Mean...
You can live to be a hundred if you give up all the things that make you want to...– Woody Allen (via somethingintellectual)
I am soosooo excited for Sunday :))))
Autumn consists of
Perfect weather, wind, and leaves. Bitchin’ clothes. Going to pick pumpkins. Contemplation. Reflection on the previous seasons, specifically last autumn. Inspiration. Self-reliance. Procrastination. Realization of the value of certain individuals. Coming to terms with schooling, and the fact that it’s coming to an end. Falling asleep to Disney movies, being late for gatherings,...
Nature always wears the colors of the spirit.– Ralph Waldo Emerson
I used to date all the sweettalkers, with their candied compliments and adoration. But somehow their speeches of oceansinmyeyes or sunlightonmycheeks tasted bitter and tart when their lips met mine. Now I’ve got a sour apple, hidden under a hard layer of caramel, full of sarcasm and feigned narcissism. And yet words have never tasted sweeter than from the lips of the granny-smith beneath...
This time should be called “Your skin grazing mine” or “Listening to your mixes” or “Smiling under quilts” or maybe even “perfect”.