inkskinned:

Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if you had stayed. What art we would have on the walls - yours and mine overlapping, photos of each other blurry and laughing. How many plants we would have let overcrowd our floor, how many poems i’d read to make you sleepy, how many breakfasts we would spend saying “after this we go right back to bed.” We were always trying to make the other person laugh but I picture more often just how you’d look in my kitchen, stirring a coffee and humming tunelessly. Maybe we would spend every Friday dancing. Maybe you’d have taught me embroidery or how to sing and I’d have shown you waltzing. Maybe we would have a dog or a cat or an engagement ring. Maybe we would have a secret stash of your favorite candy. Maybe you would have loved my mom and maybe she would have said you were good for me.

Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.

hedgehog-moss:

If you genuinely enjoy being alone, do you ever wonder if it is an inherent part of your character or if it stems from feeling inescapably lonely in the first place until you taught yourself to enjoy the peace and happiness one can find in solitude? what if the reason you now prefer & choose solitude at every turn is because you were a very lonely child, or teenager, not by your own choice, and that’s how you learnt to thrive and grow, so you no longer know if you can do that around people? There might also be an element of personal pride, an unconscious “you can’t fire me I quit” point when your brain decided to switch your feelings about solitude from distress to relief. I often find myself defending my love of being alone, to people who worry that I can’t possibly be happy to live in an isolated house in the woods; I insist that I do! I really do specifically enjoy the isolated factor and chose to live here because of it, but then I wonder how to differentiate an ingrained love of solitude from an acquired ability to thrive off unchosen loneliness, to learn from it and be nourished by it; to what extent it might be a form of contentment built on a bedrock of resignation.

(via hairringtonsteve)

21silverlinings:

Every research study tells you that in order to start, some of the most important things include: screening, enrollment, and procedures. We screen by criteria; age, sex, pre-existing conditions and history. We enroll those who fit and the procedures are clear-cut - the goal is simple. 

Maybe being too focused forced me to see things this way. I choose people based off of what I want; inherently good, healthy, etc. I bring them in, most likely a total stranger, just because my goal is to be around people who breathe life into me; goodness, sweetness, all of the above. 

That’s where I go wrong. I expect that we all have the same goal of shining light into others and where the virtue of honesty prevails. But hidden between the procedures there are adverse or unforeseen events and interactions in even the greatest research studies. And without fail, someone is almost always left hurting. 

nb 

(via )

smspoetry:

“i wish i could fuck without feelings and shatter glass ceilings but you’ll just find me drinking poison in the name of healing. i can picture a future with anyone who puts their hands in my hair because nowhere is just somewhere not fair cloaked in fake prayer. i don’t care if they don’t want me and i don’t see warning signs - i have no boundaries and i don’t believe in crossing lines because there are no guidelines in the confines of the sometimes that you see all the time. their magnetic field is the only reason that i have a moral compass and i don’t care if there are three of us in this bed because i will convince myself when my eyes are closed that numbness is the same as oneness and your sick obsession with abundance isn’t loveless.”

— smspoetry

constuhllations:

hey, i love you and i know it’s late but everything dims when i can’t hear your voice and i know you’re still glowing wherever you are so i was hoping i could visit you soon. i miss you all the time, even after i just saw you and i almost miss you when we’re together because i can already feel when we’ll have to drift away again. i’m imagining what you’re doing right now: how you might be already sleep, or maybe you’re getting coffee too late again. you’re usually daydreaming when you get the chance. eyes lit up and mouth half open. focusing on something that isn’t nothing, but you act like everything isn’t important so we belittle meaning when we speak. im not sure how you do that because everything is important to me. like your over the top forest eyebrows that need to be done. like your nose crinkling when you laugh too hard. like the way you say my name against the ripple of time, like oh god, the time is ticking but we can’t let go. so we stay. laughing and crying and talking about the stitches on your forehead that resemble a harry potter scar, and the ones on your foot that you got from skating. we’re frozen in time. ignoring the fact that everything is fleeting, only in a few days will we lose each other again. i’m glancing at you with the star struck eyes that make my heartbeat wrap around my whole body, and you always ask me questions that i wonder whether i should answer honestly or not. should i answer them honestly? well, since you asked, the face i’m making means i’m wondering what it feels like to kiss you. yeah, i only did the homework this time cause you needed to copy off me. yes, i did sleep last night, but i was thinking about you pretty late. i also dreamt of you. when do i not? no, i’m not thinking about a chemistry test again. i’m thinking about you and i and how we could be so good but instead we stay silent. let’s stop staying silent!! i’m saying, tomorrow, i might accidentally scream that i love you. i do it in my head all the time. remember when we laughed so hard last week we were basically crying? in my head, i was screaming about loving you. in my head, we were on the floor with our hands wrapped around each other and our breaths too heavy to even have time to laugh. in my head, i am with you and you are with me and god, we’re lucky. so lucky. lightning in the sky missing our bodies but hitting every other spot around us lucky. raging forest fires that don’t burn us lucky. meteoroids hitting the earth and wiping everyone clean except us lucky. we could be so lucky and our story would last in history books, and be talked about by scholars. i love you, and i know it’s late, but what would happen if i were to kiss you out of the blue tomorrow? i should start to get more sleep

lifeinpoetry:

i don’t want
to be yours. i don’t want to go back
to the way i let myself
not be mine

for most of my life.
O stranger, my life is not
yours. Is it even

mine?

— Joanna C. Valente, from “Trying Not to Be Raped, Trying Not to Listen to What Men Tell Me,” published in Hobart

teacup13:

I drink my morning coffee with a little cream and missing you

• he says good morning like the sun is an envelope ready to plant my shadows at the root of foreign words in my mouth. stay becomes the thirst that draws my lips to a close around the skin you want to shed. time has always been the map of seasons that felt your tears, yet your arms are a different prayer every night. it’s you in the morning when the dawn breaks, and it’s you in the night when i do.
• his voice is a tremble that’s still climbing the mountains of your shoulders, only pausing to lend a hand to the wishes i lost before i knew my heart could break without its brakes in yesterday. and though he controls every part of me with an orchestra of breaths, i’m always either dreaming or drowning, and some days i just want to be still in the stale song still lodged in his throat.
• and he’ll kiss my wrists before pinning them to the mirror of his name, because beauty will always have more rooms to fill.
• he’s selfish enough to wish I’m at my best with him, yet selfless enough to let go if I’m not, but I can never stay warm when you’re not around. we’ll lie in bed until we know every word to every song we don’t know, until I’ve learned every part to you i didn’t know about.
• I want to love you so much that at any given moment you can reach your hand out and close your fist around the air, and know that i’ve loved you there. I want to hold onto your hands, but i also want to hold onto the way you laugh. I want to know how your hands move when you’re nervous. I want to know how your thoughts stutter when we walk through the past. I want to tell you you’re good enough with my mouth buried in your neck
• we may make every mistake, but we‘ll love like the universe was created to be ours, and we’ll own it, every galaxy and all the dark space in between. I want to remind you of all the pieces of yourself you missed when you were so busy trying to create someone else out of them.
• the only fear I have is not letting go.
• I hope you never feel worthless. I hope you never fall to the ground with mangled hands, for this love will always deserve just one more poem.

(via teacup13-deactivated20200319)

stargazerinmoksha:

how are you doing today? i know we’ve been keeping conversations down to a minimum and i hate it when you call me with eyes soaked, salt water dreams casting thoughts of bloom right where spring should be— i’ve been meaning to call you and tell you that i’ll always be yours, but i opted out because deep down you’ll always know. she tells me that even if she knows, it’s always good to hear it. it’s always good to just have an extra push. i know that it’s complicated and we’ve never been one to keep it simple. she tells me that love looks like something we’ve been dreaming for such a long time and maybe falling into love is just a long nap that involves cuddling and spooning. maybe staying in love means we never have to wake up and if we do wake up, i pray that we always find each other within arm’s length.

— i am yours. i will always be yours.

cosmicwritings:

two years doesn’t seem that long ago but i’m not the same girl i left behind in that room with you. i forgot who we were with each other when it was just us. you know me so well that it’s harder to lie to you this time round - i’ll do it because i’m a survivor before anything else, but you nearly cracked me open this time. nearly. i don’t think it’s smart of me to see you again but i’m not known for my good decisions. went home and could still feel the warmth in my stomach, could still feel myself on fire, but i was laughing. missed you. think that’s what i’m trying to say.

(via addybeth)