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flowerbombed: BAM
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"

My parents always tell me
to never fall in love with someone else
who has baggage.

The problem with that is it disproves this fact:
you have been places and you
are going places, separately from and with me.

I want to lie down in bed with you
and have you lay out all of your suitcases.
I want you to show me the dress you
wore when you were seven and that neighborhood
girl, Sara, kissed you on the nose.
I want you to show me the pair of shoes
you wore when we first met, with your
shoe laces so dirty from walking
around this city and finding pieces
of yourself in the alleyways.

Please lay out that gown you wore
those three days when you were in the hospital
with scars on your skin because
it was easier to hate yourself than to love.
Please let me hold that bracelet
you threw into the Ocean from the first
boy that broke your heart and ended up
kissing another girl that same night
and taking her home, fucking her
so hard that the Milky Way wasn’t
a good enough metaphor
to articulate how he felt coming
home.

I will dress you up in my
eighteen year old skin where B.
and I sat instead of danced during
prom, crying over certain things
that we could not keep inside for
much longer. I will let you wear
that sweater I wore the first night
I kissed you underneath a street lamp,
as the snow was falling into the light,
I was falling into you, wholeheartedly.
I will let you wear that shirt you slipped
over your self after that first night we spent
together, in bed, learning how to love someone
properly, in a more physical sense than ever before.

And then I want to pack all of these bags
and stuff them back into our lungs,
so that our histories will always leak out of
our breath. We will not forget
how heavy we felt once and how light we feel now,
in comparison. I want to know your history, simply,
even the darkest corners, so maybe me being there
will make them lighter and make both of us
appreciate the dim light of the Moon
because it was there, even if we did not always
notice it.

"

-

Andrew M., Going / Growing (via perfect)

Fuck

(via itsonlyyforever)

(Source: deliciates, via romajone)

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leilockheart: by Marianna Paige
4677
p-arsnip: home (by Rachel Dowda)
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Alex K.: 45 Life Lessons, written by a 90 year old

kangalex:

1. Life isn’t fair, but it’s still good.

2. When in doubt, just take the next small step.

3. Life is too short not to enjoy it.

4. Your job won’t take care of you when you are sick. Your friends and family will.

5. Don’t buy stuff you don’t need.

6. You don’t have to win every argument. Stay…

(Source: reginabrett.com)

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delicate-feeling: There are things which never change
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thunderpopcola: This is how you lose her.  You lose her when you forget to remember the little things that mean the world to her: the sincerity in a stranger’s voice during a trip to the grocery, the delight of finding something lost or forgotten like a sticker from when she was five, the selflessness of a child giving a part of his meal to another, the scent of new books in the store, the surprise short but honest notes she tucks in her journal and others you could only see if you look closely. You must remember when she forgets.  You lose her when you don’t notice that she notices everything about you: your use of the proper punctuation that tells her continuation rather than finality, your silence when you’re about to ask a question but you think anything you’re about to say to her would be silly, your mindless humming when it is too quiet, your handwriting when you sign your name in blank sheets of paper, your muted laughter when you are trying to be polite, and more and more of what you are, which you don’t even know about yourself, because she pays attention. She remembers when you forget.  You lose her for every second you make her feel less and less of the  beauty that she is. When you make her feel that she is replaceable. She wants to feel cherished. When you make her feel that you are fleeting. She wants you to stay. When you make her feel inadequate. She wants to know that she is enough and she does not need to change for you, nor for anyone else because she is she and she is beautiful, kind and good. You must learn her.  You must know the reason why she is silent. You must trace her weakest spots. You must write to her. You must remind her that you are there. You must know how long it takes for her to give up. You must be there to hold her when she is about to.  You must love her because many have tried and failed. And she wants to know that she is worthy to be loved, that she is worthy to be kept. And, this is how you keep her.
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hay siempre mañana: “The first time we met we stood on a winter beach.Ankles deep in sand...

wheegirl:

“The first time we met we stood on a winter beach.

Ankles deep in sand under a sky of unconstrained stars.
The second time it didn’t work but I hope the third times the charm.
I’ve never had the audacity before now to wait for a heart
but you said “sleep on it.”
so I curled up on your…

(via thestriversrow)

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acutelesbian:

Sometimes you meet someone and even though you
never liked brown eyes before, their eyes are your favourite colour now
and sometimes you meet someone who can make the
sickest addictions seem beautiful and sometimes
there’s some people you’d rather sit on a couch with
and drink some gas station coffee and read your favourite
books over and over while you forget that dinners on the stove
so it gets burned but you still think it’s delicious anyway.

Marry them.

(via theopenroad)

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