strong but needy, humble but greedy.
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Exchange
I was an empty bucket
Drifting through existence
When I met you.
You were so heavy with all the sorrow of the seasons.
And I told you to... -
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(via heartbrokenrebellion)
(via scatterhearted)
the next time i fall in love.
and there will be a next time.
flowers will litter the floor, the hallway, the bed. candles will be lit all over the house, from the fireplace mantle to the kitchen table to the bathroom shelves to the nightstand in the bedroom.
and he will light those candles. spread those rose petals.
there will be love letters written on mirrors in lipstick. i love yous and i miss yous and no one will ever love like i dos.
there will be surprises and spur-of-the-moment roadtrips and hand holding and an engagement ring presented in some grand way on one knee. there will be pictures and memories and movie tickets and scars from our adventures.
there will be someone that i wake up to each morning who appreciates every note, every curve, every thought, every glance. who knows and looks and understands how much more there is to me than meets the eye.
there will be space. but the little red strings that connect his fingertips to mine will always be there. and our love will stretch so wide in circles that i will be able to walk or run or drive or fly for miles and still be able to feel his fingertips on my skin.
there will be endless space between us and yet no distance between our hearts. he will live and i will live. two people together but living their own dreams as dreamers, themselves.
for the moment in which i’ve sacrificed even one inch of my own precious heart, i’ve gone too far.
love isn’t breathing for another person. its someone else breathing right next to you and washing over you his breathes of “you’re going to be fine, you’re going to be great” and “i love you” and “i will be right here when you need me”. love is a battle, love is a fight, but its also the wings to help you reach the heights you know you’re capable of.
i will not be tied down again.
there will be, there will be, there will be.
there will be love.
(via scatterhearted)
I finally
understand
that I
do not
write,
I
leak.
-Tyler Knott Gregson-
(via howdoesitfuckingfeel)
~ Rainier Maria Rilke
mind. blown.
if the world should end tomorrow,
if the sun did not rise, if it turned and ran back into the night to be with its lover, the moon, and decided never again to grace us with its presence,
if the walls started caving in and there was nowhere to run,
if the sky really did start falling and chicken little was right,
where would you want to be?
would you forgive all the trespassings and the misgivings and the hateful crimes against your heart and would you confess your love to the one to whom you gave it all?
would you hold close to your family and just pray that the sun would change its mind, that the walls would expand again, that the sky was going to go back to where it belonged?
would you forget whatever thankless reasons that you had for leaving me and hold me tight while we watched the world crash together? together.
or would you just never look back at what you left behind?
now the shoe is on a different foot.
what if all your dreams came true?
right now.
every thing that you had ever wished for ever in your life happened right now in this very moment. the bad things disappeared, they never happened. those things that people you love did and that you never understood, they were erased from history. the money, the things, the cars, the houses, all those stupid materials that you wished for magically appeared in your hands, around you, in front of you.
who is standing right next to you? who is holding your hand?
i don’t know the answers to these questions. for you, or for me.
i guess i’m standing alone. i’m standing alone on a foundation built by the little angels that it doesn’t seem quite right to call my “friends”. there’s a hill of gems and diamonds and love letters and glitter and painted rocks and i stand right there as my dreams come true.
the gems? there are sapphires and garnets and all of those sparkly colors that i don’t know the names of. that girl with the wings on her arms and the bangs that she tries to hide behind? she put those there for me. she taught me grace when all i could fathom was hate. she listened when no one else could stomach the sounds of heartbreak that vomited from my lips. she was there. every second of every day, even when neither of us knew it.
the diamonds? those i can’t really explain. there’s a man who put those there. he loves with a love that i can’t explain and he’s the one who i am lucky to have, no matter how far here or there we find ourselves, he’s there with practicality and logic and the warm arms to bear hug me when my heart is broken.
the love letters? you’d think that those were a bad thing or a reminder of love lost but really they are just a reminder that i am loved. a boy wrote them for me, has been writing them to me in various forms since the moment we met. he stuck them there between the rocks and diamonds and gems and sprinkled with glitter to remind me that i am loved, even when i don’t want to believe it. his heart and mine? friends connected at the heart.
and oh, the glitter. she who has glitter in her eyes and a sparkling quality to her heart is always there to spread them over me, whether or not my dreams are coming true. she listens to the sad stories and collects my tears and turns them into sparkling baby blue fragments that give my life a sprinkle of melancholy. she breathes gold glitter and builds me up to believe that there’s more to me. there’s more to this. she turns my sobs into giggles and my whatthefuck moments into practicality and all of that bright silver glitter is her just somewhere along the way goiing from my “little” one to my silver lining.
the painted rocks?
those are extra special. my soulmate painted those. she drew happy faces and wrote my favorite quotes and jokes and funny little intimate memories on all the rocks. she painted them purples, mostly, the color she has painted my soul. she gave me the strength to run when i couldn’t even get out of bed. she is the foundation. the strongest. the one who put breath in my lungs when i would have rather died.
i’m alone on top of this hill, looking out into something. i’m alone at the end of the world, but with memories of what real love, real love was really like.
i guess, at the end (or beginning) of it all, i was really lucky.
“Annabel Lee” by Edgar Allan Poe [Manuscript, 2 p., ca. May 1849]. Clearly sensing that “Annabel Lee” would be his last poem, Poe took the unusual step, after finishing it in May 1849, of writing out several copies, of which this signed copy is one, and circulating them among his friends to ensure that the poem would not go unnoticed. Poe read the poem in lectures in Richmond and sold it, along with “The Bells,” to Sartain’s Union Magazine of Literature and Art for publication. However, it was first printed in the New-York Daily Tribune on October 9, 1849, only two days after the poet’s death, rushed into print by Rufus Griswold, who had received a copy for later inclusion in the tenth edition of The Poets and Poetry of America. Although at least four of Poe’s women friends claimed to have inspired “Annabel Lee,” the poet’s real motivation may be a reflection of his continued mourning for his wife, Virginia, who died two years earlier. (via Columbia.edu)
(via scatterhearted)
