beautiful-rejects:

The best gifts I’ve ever received
are the glow in the dark stars
that you stick to your ceiling.

But it wasn’t until you came along
That I started finding patterns:
The curl of your hair
Or the slope of your calf,
Almost like I knew you’d be coming
When I placed them

The first time you saw them
Your arm was still wrapped
Around my waist
And your fingertips traced their patterns
Onto skin which already had their patterns memorized.

You asked, “Isn’t it hard to sleep
With all the light?”
And I wanted to tell you
That they reminded me
I was part of something bigger
But I found it hard to tackle the topic
Without tripping over my tongue.

Later,
While we were bored,
We rearranged them into different shapes.
Instead of your calf
A bear
Instead of your smile
A big dipper.

It didn’t help me forget.

beautiful-rejects:

If you asked me who I would die for
A million names come to mind:
Jeff and Kristen and Sarah and Sam
And Tyler and Henry and Maddy and Vivienne
And so on and so forth into every crevice of my memory,
But my last thought will always be
What is lost when I am gone?
No more kiwi smoothies after…

beautiful-rejects:

Did you know
That the Guinness Book of World Records
Gets five claims a day
Of someone being able to lick their own elbow,
You just aren’t one of them,
And there have been two people in this world
With documented eidetic memories
And you wont even remember my name.
How about the fact
That writing poetry can help improve cognitive functions
And bullying leads to depression
Not every fact has to be correct
It just has to get my point across. 

(via imagine-ever-after)

imagine-ever-after:

I have a poem due on Monday. Does anyone want to read over it for me and tell me if it’s good enough?

beautiful-rejects:

You are made of stardust
filtered through the millenia
settling as a star in your eye.

There are more atoms in your body
than stars in the universe,
and you use that as an excuse
to carve parts of yourself away
telling me there will still be plenty left over when you are through.

I find comfort in physics
when a classmate reminds me
that “energy can neither be created,
nor destroyed.”
And I can imagine your energy
no longer with us
as a star in a child’s eye. 

(via imagine-ever-after)

pocketsfullofsand:

Tell me exactly why

I have to be the one with the swollen eyes

and the dagger by her feet;

tell me why I

let you play with me for so long when I

didn’t have to take the things you said,

when I didn’t have to keep wishing myself dead;

tell me why—

 

Or rather, don’t.

You’re gone now and I

don’t think I could handle if it was

part of what I know.

10 months ago with 18,619 notes | reblog

childishnotions:

writing is safer, somehow
because my pen cannot stutter like my lips do,
and words get stuck in throats,
not fingertips, can’t stumble
on paper trails of blue lines
because writing is definite and clear
and no one can tell if i am crying
or laughing
through written words alone 

(via obrojobs)

1 year ago with 121,497 notes | reblog

Everyone who terrifies you is sixty-five percent water.

And everyone you love is made of stardust, and I know sometimes
you cannot even breathe deeply, and
the night sky is no home, and
you have cried yourself to sleep enough times
that you are down to your last two percent, but

nothing is infinite,
not even loss.

You are made of the sea and the stars, and one day
you are going to find yourself again.  

(Source: finnualabutler, via idumeas)

1 year ago with 69 notes | reblog

1 year ago with 3,574 notes | reblog