When I said that my last boyfriend
wasn't the cuddling type, you asked,
"What kind of man doesn't want to touch a girl?"
You'll never know how beautiful you made me feel
in that moment.
Jun 22, 2014
Jun 22, 2014 at 4:44 PM UTC
She writes,
can't you tell?
Everything is
covered in
ink.
Dec 25, 2013
Dec 25, 2013 at 6:22 PM UTC
Sometimes
I like
my
handwriting
more than
the actual
poem.
Dec 25, 2013
Dec 25, 2013 at 5:45 PM UTC
Sometimes my sleeve says it all -
for that is where I bear my heart.
Dec 11, 2013
Dec 11, 2013 at 12:24 AM UTC
of innocent and
illicit meetings,
of scalding coffee
and **** cider,
of October air
and goosebumps,
of piercing stares
and demure blushes,
of nervous laughter
and bright eyed smiles,
of beautiful stupidity
and exquisite risk taking,
of sweet shyness
and hesitant touches,
of passionate giving
and exhausted joy,
of shared secrets
and utter honesty,
of motorcycle rides
and smiling skulls,
of early morning coffee
and late night magic tricks,
of story telling
and musical laughter,
of leopard spots
and three quick kisses,
of secret meetings
and getting caught,
of forbidden words
and transparent hearts,
of hands wiping
away escaped tears,
of sad departures
and naked good byes,
of miles and miles
of never ending distance,
of long awaited phone calls
and lengthy emails,
of sleepless nights
and lonely days,
of miles and miles
that separate,
of silence,
of war,
of long awaited contact,
of letters,
of wounds,
of silence,
of deafening silence,
of love
of heart ache.
Nov 21, 2013
Nov 21, 2013 at 6:57 PM UTC
It's like locking the door,
and leaving the window down.
Jul 6, 2013
Jul 6, 2013 at 10:38 AM UTC
The thing is, in reality it’s not beautiful to hate yourself.
And sleeping without dreaming is not a way you want to live.
There’s no one coming to save you,
no knight in shining armor,
but that’s not a good enough reason to give up.
And all you’ll be is broken,
and trust me,
it’s not worth it,
This world is not how they romanticize it to be,
but sometimes,
it’s much more than that.
Jun 27, 2013
Jun 27, 2013 at 6:18 PM UTC
“It was a question I had worn on my lips for days – like a loose thread on my favourite sweater I couldn’t resist pulling – despite knowing it could all unravel around me.
‘Do you love me?’ I ask.
In your hesitation, I found my answer.”
-Lang Leav
Jun 27, 2013
Jun 27, 2013 at 6:14 PM UTC
Poor worms: flooded out
of their homes to be eaten
by ravenous birds
Jun 13, 2013
Jun 13, 2013 at 6:32 PM UTC