[wnq-writers]

Writing hurts for I am forced to relive those painful memories of the past, memories I wish I could seal away for eternity. The pain is like my never ending ink and my tears are like the unspoken words. But when I write, it also feels like I’m writing the pain away. I slowly begin to accept my past for what it is and not what it was. Writing is pain but writing is also pleasure. It’s the reality I have created, one where I can express all my egos, one where I can be me without the fear of being judged, one where I can soar my wings and fly.

littlemissimaginary  (via wnq-writers)

[wnq-writers]

I never really knew how warm another person’s body could be, or how heavy a weight they could hold till I met you.The tangibility of another human was something foreign, and it took time for me to find comfort in our touches. You familiarized me with gentle tugs, taps, and brushes (subtle arm grabs, affectionate nudges, endless caresses) building a somatic language between us. These are things you taught me, and clumsily I began to recognize that you weren’t as fragile as I anticipated, and I wasn’t as strong as I thought.

incarnadine-daydream  (via wnq-writers)

[wnq-writers]

I think of how I loved him……How I truly loved every bit of him and even though my heart aches now, I smile at perfect memories he left me with. He was my home when I needed one.

Elisa Jamison (via wnq-writers)

[s-en-juti]

Like moths to the flame, We are drawn to those who gleam brightest. To the boys with the bonfire eyes, And the girls with the shatterglass smiles.

(via s-en-juti)

[agnosthesiasti]

Who I am. Who I want to be. Trapped between champagne laugher & heady smoke & sultry smiles & crimson lips dripping with secrets Or cool mornings & warm tea in bed & arms pulling me back & angel kisses dusting the wide expanse of shoulder blades. I do not know what I want, who I am, where I am going. If I am okay or not. I’m stuck in transience, captured by spaces & silence. Ephemeral.

Growing up (via littlevoicebigworld)

[brainwxves-blog]

You're a book I can't put down

Dylan Piper

[actuates]

It’s okay to be happy when people leave. Because sometimes a persons presence is a prison of its own. Sometimes you cannot leave until they do. So do not feel guilty when you feel a spark of gratitude at their absence. Instead, remember that you never needed them, Let that ‘thank you’ slip from your lips, And don’t forget to shut the doors behind you.

Thank Goodness You’re Gone. |(Morsus Engel)| (via actuates)

[wnq-writers]

As summer leaves its sweet kiss of farewell at our backs, the sunlight shining so raw and pure that the green of the grass and the trees look as though they are outlined in golden flame- and the cool breeze laps at my skin like dipping into cool, clean water- I press my lips onto yours one last time. Bittersweet and aching, I leave you with two words only, be safe. Not I love you, but be safe. On your drive home and in your life and with some future girl who will be worth taking the risk for. Be safe with my heart, which you have taken with you and will always be nothing more than something you wish you could’ve wanted.

callingnightsky, ‘the passing of seasons’ (via wnq-writers)

[wnq-writers]

I can’t really explain what I first thought when I saw her. I just knew that it was french braids and indie concerts and grand balls and little sundresses. It was blackberries and high tops and overalls and laughter. It was balloons and sundaes with chocolate syrup and silent black and white films and the fumbling of your mouth while shaping the words of a new language. It was lava lamps and polka dot scrunchies and stuffed animal tea parties and new headphones.

polarioid  (via wnq-writers)

[wordsnquotes]

she was the real poetry.

Charles Bukowski, The Night Torn Mad With Footsteps  (via wordsnquotes)

[wnq-writers]

listen to how she laughs even through the tough times. notice how all the pain and burden don’t weigh her smile down.

iambrillyant (via wnq-writers)

[wnq-writers]

I wanted your touch so I burnt myself to remember the feeling.

writttenn  (via wnq-writers)

[heldinhishands]

I was asked, “What do you think of when you hear the name Jesus?” You can never find a word that does Him justice. He is gentle and soft when we are in need of comforting, but He was the one beaten and nailed to a cross for everything we’ve done. He is forgiving but His tongue has shown rebuking. He is the symbol of love in its most freeing ways, but in Him, I’ve had to surrender so many old dreams. He is a beautiful contradicting but consistent mass of everything every soul needs. Finally, though, I found the best I could do. “Hope”, I said. Jesus was, is, and always will be the hope we are searching for when we go to our knees. Because it is in hope that when I ask, I know He forgives; when I pray, I know He hears; and when I die, I know I’ll live.

describe Jesus in one word - c.h. (via heldinhishands)

[wordsnquotes]

“I have lost and loved and won and cried myself to the person I am today.”

Charlotte Eriksson, Empty Roads & Broken Bottles; in search for The Great Perhaps (via wordsnquotes)

[brainwxves-blog]

I want to feel goosebumps rise on your skin.

Dylan Piper

[darkroom-tech]

People are prettiest when they talk about something they really love with passion in their eyes.

(via schnapsliebe)

[goodquoteco]

I fell in love with her. I could barely sleep, I was yearning for her, I dreamed of her, thought I could feel her until I realized that I was clutching the pillow or the blanket.

Bernhard Schlink, The Reader (via hqlines)