-A.

Nothing will ever be the same-- I'm sorry you can't forget me.

[acomplex-blog]

“Do you love her?” “Yes.” “How do you know?” “Because nothing makes sense without her.”

The Age of Adaline // @acomplex (via acomplex)

[acomplex-blog]

“When I first saw your hand in hers, I almost couldn’t believe it. But then over the next few weeks, As you posted about her and she of you, I observed. She is the girl who sits in the coffee shop with you, Silently sipping at her coffee, listening. And when she replies with a smile on her face and a light in her eyes that I don’t think I ever had, She’ll talk with a lightness in her tone about anything at all. She is the girl who walks with you through the downtown lights at night, when it’s a little chilly out, and she will window shop with you. She is the girl who gets all excited and riled up over her favorite hobby or favorite book and brings it up to you and then can’t stop talking about it, So you’ll sit there and listen to her, just to watch her excitement sweep through her bones as she talks with her hands and facial expressions. She is the girl who will be waiting for you at home, nuzzled up peacefully in one of your shirts, dreaming about what the morning will bring. And you will smile and lay next to her and think about the safeness and the content you have. For she will always call you when she says she will, she will be there to check up on you and she will make you feel stable.

And I know why it is her and not me, Because I am the opposite. I am the girl who runs through sunset fields, And dark woods, Her silhouette the only thing you can see as she grabs you by the hand and runs with you. And when you sit with your legs hanging over the water on some abandoned dock she’s taken you to, Then she will talk. She will talk and talk and talk about nothing and everything all at once. Stuff that leaves you questioning, Questions that she will answer with more questions. But she won’t talk to you with a light in her eyes or the lightness in her tone. She will talk to you with cool marbled darkness in her eyes and her voice like crunching autumn leaves. But she will smile at you, But a smile that a predator has, One she uses to lure you in; for that’s all she knows how. She is the girl who will take you downtown at night but not stop in front of windows to gawk at bobbles and cloth that she believes you don’t need, She will take you in the back alleys to the ladders and you will climb up buildings and sit on rooftops and under the stars she will laugh and it will be the first time you see light in her eyes as the stars twinkle in the reflection of that dark marble. But when you get home at night, she won’t be there. You’ll lay down and curl up and later she will stumble in and you’ll see her, she will strip to almost nothing and she will lay away from you. And you will watch that hurricane simmer into a light patter of rain as her breathing steadies and her body relaxes. And then when she is asleep you will touch her arm and she will roll over to you, and she will unconsciously push into you and tuck herself into the protection of your arms. Because it’s the girl who is unbreakable, unstoppable, unbearable that is the weakest. And you will be there to hold her and stay with her through the nights where once nightmares are relaxed with your forehead kisses and voice like velvet.

I know why you left me.

And I don’t blame you.

She is safety with her bright eyes, small laughs and dainty hands.

I am wildfire with my wanderers heart, raspy voice and hands dipped in ink.

She was your safe haven after the recklessness that was my love.”

// @acomplex

[acomplex-blog]

My proudest moment was seeing a picture of you and being able to breathe.

Finally // Excerpt from a book i’ll never write // @acomplex (via acomplex)

[acomplex-blog]

Have you ever loved a rose, And watched her slowly bloom; And as her petals would unfold, You grew drunk on her perfume. Have you ever seen her dance, Her leaves all wet with dew; And quivered with a new romance— The wind, he loved her too. Have you ever longed for her, On nights that go on and on; For now, her face is all a blur, Like a memory kept too long. Have you ever loved a rose, And bled against her thorns; And swear each night to let her go, Then love her more by dawn.

The Rose // Lang Leav // @acomplex (via acomplex)

[acomplex-blog]

I saw you today, The first time since That cold night Where we left each other. I thought I would be okay. It’s been months, weeks, days. But we made eye contact And I felt my freshly sharpened heart Shatter back into thousands of pieces. I loved you, More than you deserved. You treated me like the filth of the earth But I loved you and I was patient And I spoke sweet words into your ear And comforted you when you needed I was good to you. I was gentle, patient and kind. You ripped those things from me. I am fierce, abrasive and disconnected. I saw you today And my body flashed back To when I was weak and scared of you Of losing you Of your words Of your hands And I broke.

I’m not okay // @acomplex // Excerpt from the life I have (via acomplex)

[ambivilantlywritten]

a writer will make you fall in love. They’ll paint you story’s of things you could never dream of. They’ll make you see yourself and a moment beautifully. It will be etched into your brain forever. The only problem is, a writer needs a muse, and they can’t control who is a muse and when they find one. Be careful with a writer, as soon as they write you in, they can write you out.

e.h // don’t fall in love with a writer // 4.9.17 (via unfilteredthoughtss)

[autoportraitt]

[love-personal]

[attach-blog1]

[acomplex-blog]

“

”If you’re going to talk to her then you might as well do it already.” I said to myself, looking at the stranger in the bookstore. She was sitting on the floor in front of a shelf filled with various colors of printed word and her face was hiding behind a tale of lost lives.

“Hey, brunette.” I called to her. She looked up to me with a far-from-happy look on her face and said back, “Hey, red head who keeps passing my isle and not looking at the books.” She said back to me, annoyance and satisfaction in her tone. I shook my head and felt heat rise to my cheeks as I looked down to my poetry book. She had me there. She closed her book and set it back onto the shelve. Her hair was nearly black and her eyes a mint green.

“Hi,” I started again.

“Hey?” she questioned.

“What brought you here?” I inquired.

“It’s a book store? I came for the books. ”

“It’s much more than a book store.”

“You’re right, it’s my escape.” she laughed.

She looks as if she is struck by something for a moment, and then shook her head. We started up a conversation that would lead us down a journey of intimate talking about dreams and plans and hobbies and literature and music and breakfast foods and it seemed like we went on for hours and hours walking about the book store just talking.

My hair was straight and pushed behind my ears on the sides and fell down my back. My khakis and black t-shirt seemed like a good idea to pair with my black vans. Her hair was naturally curly and fell to her shoulders. She was wearing a striped shirt and black leggings. Before I knew it the talk was over and we were outside heading to our cars.

“I feel like I know you,” I said standing in the warm spring air.

“Well maybe you do, it wasn’t coincidence we met. Everything happens for a reason and maybe we’ll meet again.” She smiled, and I felt my heart skip again. “It was nice chatting.” and with that she turned and as did I.

I was halfway to my car when I turned and she was looking. I winked at her, and turned back to my car, questioning why my heart was acting the way it was. Was it the coffee? I reached for my door handle to open it, but then I realized something. I quickly turned around saying “Hey I never got your name-” but, as fast as she’d appeared into my life, she had vanished.

“

[poisoned-words]

Your legs never get cold and you only ever swear when you’re really angry but you never say the c word. Your favourite colour is red but that has nothing to do with the fact it’s the colour of your favourite football team. You want to be a singer when your older and If you had the time you’d write your own songs now. You are so scared of bees that you scream whenever one is within 10 inches of you. You love going on adventures but you’re too scared to break the law. You’re not scared of death though. You want to die so that you can find a way to come back. You want to take pictures of everything you see and you’re good. You’re good. You’re so fucking good and I’m so fucking in love with you.

Words from the girl madly in love with you (via poisoned-words)

[acomplex-blog]

And what exactly was it you were thinking?

Tell me what it was // @acomplex

[acomplex-blog]

Everyone has feelings, not a lot of them matter.

Mine didn't to you // @acomplex

[sukecat]

[euo]

[sleepy-cactus]

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