July 22, 2014
And I choose you every single second, hour of the day. I choose you, KYJ. ❤️

And I choose you every single second, hour of the day. I choose you, KYJ. ❤️

July 17, 2014
"You’re good for the ones you love. You want to be good for the ones you love, because you know that your time with them will end up being too short, no matter how long it is."

— Stephen King, “Lisey’s Story” (via creatingaquietmind)

(Source: raccoonpowered, via creatingaquietmind)

July 16, 2014
"

We numbered the days with
how strong the pain was.
We doused out hearts in gasoline
and kissed with matches in our teeth.

But fires die out and we forget
that it’s okay to stay in love
when it does not burn.

"

Amanda Helm, Our Love was Flammable  (via amandaspoetry)

(via amandaspoetry)

July 16, 2014
"

You have freedom
etched into your collarbones
spelled like the bite marks I gave on the
nights that we made songs out of ourselves.

Hello
is the sound of a front door opening;
eloquence is your fingers playing
me like piano keys;
miracles are when you sleep beside me,
when we kiss and I tremble yet
I’m still standing on my feet.

Once I asked why you stopped writing
and you said, “This is it. This is
what it’s supposed to feel like” and I saw
safe in the space between our ribcage.

So on the nights you feel like
I were made for kings,
hold my hand and find commitment
braided down my spine.

Let your bones rest here.
Let me make art on your skin for
you are mine.

You are a poem that breathes;
you are words with a heartbeat.

"

Sade Andria Zabala | You Are The Poem I Didn’t Know How To Write

When words come to life, you exist.

(via surfandwrite)

(Source: surfandwrite, via surfandwrite)

July 16, 2014

(Source: thebenevolentarmadillo, via weight-a-second)

July 16, 2014
"

My kneecaps are separated from my knees and
some days it feels like I could pick them up
and throw them away.

I wonder what it’s like
to remove a part of yourself.

In our dreams do we still have tonsils?
When our stomach feels empty,
is it really just the absence of our appendix?

The closest I’ve ever come to missing
a part of me,
was missing you.
Some days, I wake up and remember that my dreams
lie when they say you still love me.

"

Amanda Helm, Ghosts (via amandaspoetry)

June 30, 2014
This.

This.

June 22, 2014
"Some people turn sad awfully young. No special reason, it seems, but they seem almost to be born that way. They bruise easier, tire faster, cry quicker, remember longer and, as I say, get sadder younger than anyone else in the world. I know, for I’m one of them."

Ray Bradbury, Dandelion Wine (via goodendure)

(Source: seabois, via a-thousand-words)

June 22, 2014

(Source: sexhype, via wannabearealgirl)

June 22, 2014

(Source: nic0tine-kisses, via mmfdstuff)

June 22, 2014
"I was dying to hear
someone say
that I didn’t need
to try so hard to be perfect,
that I was enough
and
it was okay."

— Unknown  (via tellmefive)

(Source: kuffr, via tellmefive)

June 22, 2014
"Some mornings, she’d wake and vow, Today, I will get it right. I won’t be such an awful mess of a girl. I won’t lose my temper or make unkind remarks. I won’t go too far with a joke and feel the room go quiet with disapproval. I’ll be good and kind and sensible and patient. The sort everyone loves. But by evening, her good intentions would have unraveled. She’d say the wrong thing or talk a little too loudly. She’d take a dare she shouldn’t, just to be noticed. Perhaps Mabel was right, and she was selfish. But what was the point of living so quietly you made no noise at all? “Oh, Evie, you’re too much,” people said, and it wasn’t complimentary. Yes, she was too much. She felt like too much inside all the time. So why wasn’t she ever enough?"

— Libba Bray (via creatingaquietmind)

(Source: middlenameconfused, via creatingaquietmind)

June 6, 2014

(Source: shesgonecountryyy, via bigsmilesbigdreams)

June 6, 2014

(Source: mycolorsfadeout, via safeguards)

June 2, 2014
"You should be angry. You must not be bitter. Bitterness is like cancer. It eats upon the host. It doesn’t do anything to the object of its displeasure. So use that anger. You write it. You paint it. You dance it. You march it. You vote it. You do everything about it. You talk it. Never stop talking it."

— Maya Angelou (via crles)

(Source: hotsenator, via justastorytotelll)