1.
If people were punctuation…
I’d be an ellipsis, an indication
of an omitted word, a hidden sentence,
an unimportant paragraph. I want to
make it easier for you to skim over me,
move on to more important things.

2.
(If people were punctuation)
You’d be parentheses, containing
words like afterthoughts,
small bits of information cradled
between your curved hands,
a quiet place to rest.

3.
If people were punctuation…
I’d be an ellipsis, an unfinished
thought condensed into three little dots,
trailing off into silence. I am
the unspoken, the implied,
floating off into nowhere.

4.
(If people were punctuation)
You’d be parentheses, setting
these words apart from the rest,
wrapping yourself around them
and grounding them to the page
instead of letting them float away.

5.
I keep trying to surrender
to the ease of fading away…
but the curve of your hands
hold me in place.

— Marianna Paige (…)

(via thewriternetwork)

THEORIES ABOUT THE UNIVERSE



I am trying to see things in perspective.
My dog wants a bite of my peanut butter
chocolate chip bagel. I know she cannot
have this, because chocolate makes dogs
very sick. My dog does not understand this.
She pouts and wraps herself around my leg
like a scarf and purrs and tries to convince me
to give her just a tiny bit. When I do not give in,
she eventually gives up and lays in the corner,
under the piano, drooping and sad. I hope the
universe has my best interest in mind like I have
my dogs. When I want something with my whole
being, and the universe withholds it from me,
I hope the universe thinks to herself: "Silly girl.
She thinks this is what she wants, but she
does not understand how it will hurt.

— THEORIES ABOUT THE UNIVERSE by Blythe Baird  (via thewastedgeneration)

(via featherumbrellas)

“I’m sorry that I’m both your umbrella and the rain.”
— Tablo (via drapetomania)

(via hippie-with-mermaidhair)


I will always look at you like this.

I will always look at you like this.

I will always look at you like this.

I will always look at you like this.

I will always look at you like this.

(via hippie-with-mermaidhair)

“It’s a funny thing coming home. Nothing changes. Everything looks the same, feels the same, even smells the same. You realize what’s changed is you.”
— F. Scott Fitzgerald  (via versteur)

(via postgradinhighheels)

i.
a girl’s feet will tangle yours under sheets you just bought for a night like this. the price tag is still glued to the plastic wrapping stuffed underneath the bed. her feet are frigid and feel like frostbite against your legs when you fall asleep, but they’re like mittens roasted over a fire when the sun blinks through the curtains.

ii.
a girl’s legs are taut and thick. they’re flexible and enclose you in a straightjacket at 2 am when they knot around your waist and pull you just a little closer. if she’s still sleeping, it’s even better.

iii.
her thighs will make you forget about your calculus homework and your french exam. they will make you forget about your father’s affair or your best friend’s disorders. they will make you forget your name and they will make you forget who you are without them. hold them as tight as you can. i promise, she loves it.

iv.
when you were in fourth grade, they taught you stop, drop, and roll at the sign of a fire. when you’re in her bedroom on the second floor, her quivering hips will trick-start a similar fire in your teeth, and you’re going to want to listen to your fourth grade teacher, but don’t. if you stop, whatever it may be that you’re doing, she might kill you.

v.
so in health class, they’re supposed to teach you that your hands will never fit somewhere like they will on a girl’s waist. it doesn’t matter if it’s wide and soft, or small and hard. your hands will adapt to her waist like the heart to your blood. they’ll feel as natural as fingers on an instrument.

vi.
sometimes you can see her ribs; sometimes you can’t. they flicker like an old grainy movie under her skin, and they feel like sharp magma in your palms. they’re structure — they protect her. hold her there if you want her to feel like this house isn’t caving in on herself.

vii.
her chest. promise her you’d never want anything more or anything less. if you don’t mean it, stop reading, and find someone else.

viii.
taste her collarbone. dip in the crevices and valleys and plant trees at the bottom. root down, cherish the nature, and never ever underestimate a girl’s collarbones. they’re a place to sleep when its -11 outside. write scripts on her collarbone. they are forever.

ix.
if you don’t know blueprints to her neck with your eyes closed from tracing it with your mouth, you’re doing it wrong. learn it. memorize it. you better know her pulse like counting with your dominant hand. kiss it like it’s her mouth. her neck will change over time, yes. but make sure you can change with it.

x.
kiss her before she brushes her teeth. make fun of her morning breath. kiss her after, and make fun of the flavor of her toothpaste. kiss her when she’s angry and throwing the vase your mother bought her, and kiss her when she can’t stand and she bubbles over with tears like hot water. kiss her if she’s laughing and tell her it’s because she makes you happy. kiss her if she won’t stop talking because you want to taste her voice. kiss her when she isn’t talking because you miss it. kiss her in the shower and kiss her everywhere. if it’s raining, kiss her, and kiss her again when she calls you a cliche. kiss her in public because you want them all to know, and kiss her in private because you don’t need them to either. god, just kiss her on the mouth. nothing else matters. just fucking kiss her.

10 Body Parts || izztstei (via mylegolife)

This is beautiful.

(via allthingsmustpass68)

(via thetalltwig)