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 siredtosourwolf)

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 jehaned)

rumouredtobeaserialnumber:

When they write about
the women who
walked away with grace,
leaving
broken hearts in their paths,
I picture
black dresses
and shattered champagne flutes,
and maybe an
evil smirk or two.

But I wonder if
they’re just as average
as the rest of the world,
I wonder if
someone has ever,
will ever,
write about me
in that way.
Clumsy, klutzy,
spastic me.
The words of a poet
will provide
the magic,
mystery, and
allure.

A beautiful woman
will always be trapped
in
the eyes of her beholder.
But maybe I
wouldn’t mind
being
held. 

byligita:

Love me.

Such is my condition:
A robin in deep winter,
Searching for a hole
In your bark,
For an embrace
Among your branches
A place of warmth where
My crimson breast can linger

Love, me.

The last line of the letter
I wrote to you: a farewell
Left on your desk with a
Crescent coffee stain on it
Where I put the cup
To hold the note still
Like I failed to hold you

Those words lie in your bark
How one little thing changed everything -
At least the words are left unchanged.

thephilosophersotherstone:

I know a girl with dark hazel eyes

a fierce warrior woman to some
clad in flimsy fragile armour
armed with a pen of kindness
she bends like a willow
under the weight of life
and like a slender willow
she bends back upright
an unassuming kindly spirit
strong for others and herself

I know a girl with dark hazel eyes

Move him into the sun— Gently its touch awoke him once

(Source: bentfistshaw, via astillsoftershade)