justastorytotelll:

Langston Hughes.

i just fell in love with this.

(via inhale-ink)

•  2 January 2013  •  178,390 notes

“What’s the cure for sadness? she asked. And the other girl replied, There is no cure for sadness. You can take the pills and write your feelings out in a journal and that sadness may ease a little; it may even stop consuming your life so entirely, but it will never completely disappear. Like a ghost, sadness will always knock on your door, no matter how hard you try to prevent it from getting in.”

— Fragment 90 (via writingsforwinter)

•  1 January 2013  •  8,797 notes

secretedsins

” You are the page, the ink, the poem.” You are the words in between my lips that never leave. You are the syllables that get stuck in my through. You are smile behind my hands. You are my waking moments and stretching in the sunlight. You are arpeggio and every crescendo in this symphony. 

(via flyingmind)

•  11 December 2012  •  13,897 notes

leeroyjenkins:

i don’t know what to tell you
other than the fact that a giraffe’s
heart weighs 22 pounds and that
somebody once told me when
flies fall in love, their entire brain
is rewired to only know loving each
other. when one of them dies, their
memory becomes blank. i hope you
never think about anything as much
as i think about waking up next to
you during a windstorm at 5 am.

(Source: likeawritingdesk, via hennnypotter)

•  10 December 2012  •  144,605 notes

inhale-ink:

I fell for your mouth first,
I think.

I especially liked its hows -
misplaced smiles,
  misunderstood kisses,
    and unmistakeably flawless
expressions out of its corners

when you sing.

It speaks of such
scary things
in beautiful ways,
  like death,
                            and sadness,
            and love.

I also think your mouth tastes nice,
though I’m quite sure it finds mine
              
    rather unremarkable.

•  21 November 2012  •  15 notes

“Okay, we didn’t work, and all
memories to tell you the truth aren’t good.
But sometimes there were good times.
Love was good. I loved your crooked sleep
beside me and never dreamed afraid.
There should be stars for great wars
like ours.”

— Sandra Cisneros  (via implexa)

(Source: memereve)

•  19 November 2012  •  23 notes

I would write of something else, but nothing else compels me to write the way you do. I cannot describe the morning and the sunrises without describing the way the light runs its rays across your face. And how the still of the air fluctuates when the pace of your breathing alternates. The moment you inhale deeply filling the cavity of your ribs and proceed to pull me closer. I would write of something else, but then it would just be something else and not anything special at all. And the mornings would just be another morning. 

•  15 June 2012  •  2 notes

I miss waking up to you. How the heat from you make its way over to me. I miss you waking up and pulling me closer. I miss the rise of your rib cages against my back. I miss the brushes of your lips on the nape of my neck.  The I miss you’s don’t make up for the physical being. The goodnight text don’t hold place for brushing my hair until I fall asleep. 

(Source: leol0ve, via justalittlefrazzled)

•  10 June 2012  •  127 notes

come back to me 

come back into me 

inside of me 

become of me 

I just want 

to be 

held 

again 

but 

the arms of someone else 

don’t hold me quite like yours 

the lips of someone else 

don’t know each set of mine like yours 

the eyes of someone else 

have not memorized my scars like yours

the hands of someone else 

aren’t the ones I’m yearning for

…

(via 5ivefeetunder-deactivated201206)

•  4 June 2012  •  97,156 notes