katara:

not being drunk is so awful

(via rl-y)

"You’re trying to leave like a
clean houseguest, taking all
the garbage with you and
making the bed with the dirty
sheets. It’s not that easy - I
can’t unlove you with a shower
and a box of chocolate or
forget you with a bottle of cheap
wine. This ‘staying friends’ thing
is a lie - we both know it - but
I’d rather try to have this than
nothing. You’re not offering me
a soft landing, just running off
and telling me I’ll be okay, but I
won’t be - not without you. If I
can’t love you as someone who’s
mine, I want to try to love you
as a friend."
- anne, let’s stay friends (via anneisrestless)
"You’re not my first love but you’re
the first I’ve loved like this. I
wonder if everything before you
was just practice, like stretching
my arms out so I could hold you
better. You’re like a song I’ve
heard before, but never at full
volume; you’re the end chorus
with all the instruments in."
- anne, it was all building up to this (via anneisrestless)
"My eyes are bigger than my
stomach with us; my dreams
are bigger than my hands."
- anne, you make me want impossible things (via anneisrestless)

egberts:

if you try to tell me cold doesnt have a smell you’re wrong

when its really cold you can literally smell how cold it is

(via lordelyza)

"Some names will always taste bitter."
- 6 Word Poem About Love, by Devyn Springer (via feelingsandwhatnot)

(via sayimhappyagain)

"You’re so careful not to touch
me now - not my heart, not my
skin, not my hope. When we
talk I can read the silent rejection
letters: Dear Miss, we regret to
inform you that your affection
cannot be accepted at this time.
Maybe you think you’re being
kind by not leading me on, but
our friendship was built on caring
for each other long before I had
feelings for you, so while you’re
trying to push me away as a
crush, you’re also pushing me
away as a friend."
- anne, you’re so different now… (via anneisrestless)
"This is the kind of love poem that gets dirty —
I want to say I’d take you out to dinner, runs my toes over your ankle under the five-star tablecloth, but I’d actually just drive you to the highest cliff I could and shove my fingers in your mouth. I’d love you so hard you bruised from it, moaned into me that you wanted more. We’d find the kind of motel that people don’t use for anything else, fuck five times on a mattress that has seen thousands of lovers like us, bleeding over its sheets. You’d pretend not to know my name and, God, look at this — I am volatile for you, all fingernails and bent knees. Nothing about it would be tender, I’d be a gut wound and you wouldn’t even mind.
This isn’t the kind of love poem that promises anything permanent, this is the kind of love poem that says that I want to tear you apart just for the hell of it, want you naked, want you trembling. This is the kind of poem you don’t tell your parents about, go home the next morning with my name bruised onto your thigh, don’t speak of how we set the world on fire and clung together as it burned.
This is a dirty poem about the ways I would love you deep, like a disease. This is a dirty poem about how we leave ourselves in ruins. This is a dirty poem about the ashes of the war."
- This is a Dirty Poem | d.a.s (via backshelfpoet)

(via anneisrestless)