#quotes on tumblr
“You kissed me like you were desperate for that moment to never end.”
-Day 578
“How many lives do you think we have lived where we have loved each other”
-Day 577
She became convinced that the measure of her existence hung in the balance.
That the complexity of her calm fell in the number of idle breaths she took a day
That her beauty was a scarcity of times that she glanced at the mirror without feeling repulsed.
She is fragile.
Picking up the broken pieces that were once amassed to create a woman. Beautiful and resolved.
All it takes for such a woman to fall, is the absence of someone to pick up the pieces.
And instead of being her own someone. Her own harrowing warrior.
She fell.
Cracked under pressure.
She was broken. And needed everything she swore she’d never want.
Searched for her own validation in the hands of another. And slowly wept; wilted away into her own self demolition.
She lived shadowed under a blanket of grievances.
They were no longer the materialistic obstacles that used to hoard her time.
The were deep and dark and ugly.
She’s slipping into a black hole of her own creation. In a list for validation to find value in herself hidden in the arms of another. When will she realize that she is the only person that will give her worth. She is the only one who can understand her value. And she must fight to be comfortable in her own skin and bones rather than listlessly searching for a piece of her, hidden in a puzzle of broken souls.
She is fragile.
But she will live. And she will learn to love the pieces that have gone astray, the rounded edges and the bitterness that keeps her up till early hours. She will learn to look into the mirror and be content. She will pick up her own pieces. Put them into place.
She was fragile.
But now she is found.
Pieced together the broken.
And the broken;
Now forever bound.
r.t.
The way my hips sway every time that I walk
The piercing regret that sets in after I talk
When I look in the mirror it’s a monster I see
A monster that looks a whole lot like me
I don’t understand when this girl got so bad
I just wish her eyes in the mirror weren’t so sad
You see, I feel disconnected from the reflection that I own.
No more confidence
Into self-loathe I’ve grown.
r.t.
If you want to talk to him: go ahead
Dial his number and press call
But when he feeds you the same lines again be careful not to fall.
Life’s too short to worry.
Does he miss me?
Or did he move on?
But if you find out he does miss you, be careful not to fawn
If you’re still in love with him; that’s okay.
Just protect yourself from the games he plays.
Don’t let yourself break
Don’t let yourself fall.
But by golly if you want to see him, Just call.
r.t.
How lovely it is to have someone care
How lovely to know that someone is there.
How lovely to feel as lovely as can be.
Lovely is all I feel, when you’re with me.
When some people look at the clock they see numbers. Others all that they must get done; the requirements they must meet. Every ticking second presents a new hoop to jump through, a new kid to pick up or chore to get done. When I look at the clock all I see is you.
The ticking hands show me every second we’ve spent together and every hour we’ve spent apart. The hands tick down tediously to your arrival. They race around the clock to mark your departure. When you are gone they are there to daunt me. When you are here they are there to taunt me. When I look at the clock I see every minute since we first met, every hour we spent together at that old diner, and ever second we sat in silence because I messed something up. The hands point forth to an age of loneliness they show me a life of minutes spent without you.
When you’re gone, every rain drop seems to drown me.
Every shadow casts an immortal darkness
Every glimmer of light seems to scald me.
When you’re gone, all the seasons happen at once and I am both hot and cold. Burning from the absence of your cool composure to soothe me. Freezing without the warmth of your smile to relieve me.
When you’re gone it is both night and day. I am a child scared to death of the darkness cowering in the corner trying to separate myself from the dark that your shining eyes used to transcend. In the daylight I struggle to steer clear of the scalding sun that used to be overshadowed by your cool and calming demeanor. Keeping me under a shadow of clear and blissful protection.
When you are here I am the blooming daisies of spring. Painting a portrait in a brisk and bright meadow. I am a Popsicle melting in the summer heat bright and sweet. A leaf painted with the pigments of fall, gently fluttering to the earth below. The first snowfall of winter crisp and refreshing. A piece of magic a mystery for the mindful eyes of a child sitting idly by the window.
When you are gone I am the thunderstorms that haunt the spring. My tears drench the daisies and leave them suffocated without light. I am the summer child left to stare at my melted ice treat. Left only to be covered in a sticky situation and scolded by my mother who told me not to indulge in sweets before settling down to dinner. An abundance of leaves coving the yard. I must be raked and hidden away. Leaving the yard immaculate. Away from the chaos of missing you. A blizzard that leaves the world hidden away under a thick sheet of ice. Cold and punishing.
When you are here, everything seems beautiful.
When you are gone, everything seems beautiful, except for me.
r.t.
We speak without words
And breath without air
Our hearts compose without beats
And we shine without glare.
The earth seems silent
whenever we are together
The loudest of silences
Forever and never
r.t.
It’s shallow
But I’m drowning
In a hate so rooted deep
I’m lost inside reflections
An uphill battle that’s too steep
Taught to battle monsters
I keep fighting them with skill
forgot to warn me that the ones inside
were not okay to kill.
r.t.
Looking for all the right answers
in all the wrong places.
Looking to find myself
in everybody else’s faces.
Can’t keep praying
for what I swear I don’t need.
Can’t keep trying to understand
a book I won’t read.
I expect others to see value
in a place I never do.
I expect my plans to succeed
though I don’t think them through.
Obsessive.
Compulsive.
Right in all the wrong ways.
Seems like I’ll be stuck here choking on self-hatred
till somebody stays.
r.t.
It’s late and I miss you.
You were to be my everything
My refuge
You kept me safe.
From myself.
Happy.
It’s late and I miss you.
My mind wanders
I’ve thought up
A million things to say to you
Things I won’t.
But wish I could.
It’s late and I miss you.
And life is short.
But so was your temper.
And I’m still trying to make sense of what happened.
It’s too late.
I miss you.
You called today.
Not even the warmth of your voice could salvage the icy front I had put up.
You weren’t here when I needed you.
It’s late
and hopefully now you miss me.
But I think I’ve finally stopped
Missing you.
r.t.
If I write you into my world
Then I haven’t given you up.
I tear pages of you from my heart
Erase paragraphs of your existence
I try to rob myself of your presence
And still I seem to cry tears made up of your promises and
breath air polluted with your words.
If I break my own heart waiting for you
And scribble it on a page
Then I haven’t forgotten you yet
You don’t know the color of my eyes
The taste of my lips
or the pigment of my cheeks
when you say hello.
If I write myself senseless stories of you
Being everything I ever wanted
Then your breath is still in my lungs
I exhale.
Trying to expel your beautiful taste
that has become far too addictive.
I choke on good intentions.
And bleed desperation.
Desperate to forget about you. Desperate to no longer depend on that smile to set my day into motion
and that voice to lull me to sleep.
I try so hard to erase you from my mind, to cleanly reap the seams
binding you to my heart,
and binding my heart to my sleeve.
It wasn’t until looking you in the eyes
for the last time that I realized,
my inability to form
a coherent thought about you
unless it was spilled across paper in permanent ink, was the tangible prison destined to tie me down for all eternity.
You see, I had erased myself from the pages of your book, only to find that you cluttered every chapter of my own.
r.t.
An empty love.
Filled to the brim with high hopes.
He’s put his heart in plastic palms
His faith in paper souls
Searching for something real
Deceived by playing roles.
He’d tell her she looks pretty
She’d compliment him back
His breath was empty promises
His heartbeat hollow cracks.
An empty love requited
Better than a full one that is not
He fell for empty promises
Sought out beauty instead of thought
Why must he constantly seek a love
A full one to the brim
Then constantly settle
for an empty love
A love so paper thin.
A petty, plastic, cracked glass love
A hollow, skimpy, half assed love.
He deserved a love so full above
The brim that is unmet.
But settled for the easy love
His broken safety net.
He gave himself away too quick
Spread himself too thin
Looking for love outside himself
Before finding it within.
r.t.
The words became heartbeats more alive than myself
And the ideas became words
Books strewn on a shelf
Collecting dust
Just enough to cloud the mind
Picked up and swept away
A dusty dream to find
I hate myself for loving him
I fall a victim of his idle grin
His jokes are tasteless
His words are vain
But when I’m with him
There is no pain.
Just the subtle sting of wanting him mine.
I hate myself for giving him all my time.
Que ganas de irme a un lugar donde nadie me conozca y empezar de cero.
Lo más difícil de la distancia es que no sabes si te están extrañando o te están olvidando.
Llegas a un punto donde ni tu mismo sabes como te sientes, no sabes si es tristeza, rabia, enojo o decepción, simplemente te sientes mal
