the shapes colors make.
I kept telling you that our love hasn’t left; that we must have misplaced it. Like the bobby-pins I always manged to lose and then find again throughout the years in places they shouldn’t have been. And when it was over and I started to forget the sound of your voice, I kept telling myself that it still hasn’t left. That all the feelings I’ve ever had still swelled with every inhale and sunk with every exhale. I started to wonder how anyone really knows where that sort of thing begins and where it ends. I started to wonder if there was a single moment where my smile stopped making your heart somersault. Lately, all I’ve been doing is writing. And some days I find myself re-writing my words and other days I find that the words have re-written me. Everything is sharper. The reds aren’t just reds, they are cardinals and oxbloods. The blues aren’t just blues, they are teals and periwinkles. I’m able to untie the knots that have kept me close to you and see that our love disappeared when the shape of who you were looked like home, but the shape of who you became felt like a jagged edge that couldn’t cut through my flesh. But I’ll keep telling you that it hasn’t left—that it didn’t seep between our rib-cages like water from broken faucets. That it was kept between the warmth of your palms. That it was tucked away in the space between our head and our hearts. That love never leaves on its own accord. It gets thrown away.
There are no gates to heaven. There are no doors to happiness. Go forth and love like a choir of mirrors. There is no collar on the beast of sadness, but it does not hunt for you. My darling, wake up. Wake up. It’s morning.
— (via greenerhearts)
words jb perfect fq
The saddest thing about betrayal is that it never comes from your enemies.
— Anonymous (via seventeenthave)
Often, when we have a crush, when we lust for a person, we see only a small percentage of who they really are. The rest we make up for ourselves. Rather than listen, or learn, we smother them in who we imagine them to be, what we desire for ourselves, we create little fantasies of people and let them grow in our hearts. And this is where the relationship fails. In time, the fiction we scribble onto a person falls away, the lies we tell ourselves unravel and soon the person standing in front of you is almost unrecognisable, you are now complete strangers in your own love. And what a terrible shame it is. My advice: pay attention to the small details of people, you will learn that the universe is far more spectacular an author than we could ever hope to be.
— Beau Taplin, The fiction of people (via afadthatlastsforever)
I really do think that art can save you in some sense. It’s the last meaning, unless you’re religious—and I’m not religious. It’s the only secular vehicle for transcendence we have. It’s an immediate self-validating experience. It lifts you beyond your mortal clay.
— Sam Savage, Poets & Writers Sept/Oct 2011 (via allhehearisbirds)
words sam savage
I am a self-diagnosed past addict. I pine for lost love. I think incessantly about love I never had, love I really want to have, love I’ll never have.
— Tegan Quin (via durianseeds)
I wish I hadn’t shown you the darkest parts of me.
— I would take it all back (via schattengedanken)
Scare the world: Be exactly who you say you are and tell the truth.
— The Shock of Honesty (via themischaproject)
Your mother did not raise you with a wolf in your chest so you could howl over losing a man.
— read this on here today and i haven’t stopped thinking about this quote since (via pluiedem)
1. Your skin may never be perfect, and that’s okay.
2. Life is too short not to have the underwear, the coffee, and the haircut you want.
3. Everyone (including your family, your coworkers, and your best friend) will talk about you behind your back, and you’ll talk about them too. It doesn’t mean you don’t love each other.
4. It’s okay to spend money on things that make you happy.
5. Sometimes without fault or reason, relationships deteriorate. It will happen when you’re six, it will happen when you’re sixty. That’s life.
— Five things I am trying very hard to accept. (via leunq)
If you look at the fact that you have a roof over your head, food to eat, that you are young and beautiful and live in a peaceful land, then no, you have nothing to be sad about. But the fact is, we are not only a physical body, we have souls too, and sometimes our souls get sick. If you break a leg you don’t just say ‘I have no reason to have a broken leg’ and ignore it; you seek help. It’s the same when your soul gets hurt. Don’t apologize for being sad.
— My doctor when I told her I had no reason to be sad (via hrive-ithiliel)
I can’t want you anymore. It’s killing me.
— (via the-taintedtruth)