a bouquet of soft dreams

i'm B. welcome to my thoughts.

[decisions-at-3am]

Look upon the sky, Where birds fly free. Two who are dancing Look like you and me.

[dreamingonclouds]

I am an avalanche of fears. Tell them I am not fearless. I am just brave.

by B (via dreamingonclouds)

[dreamingonclouds]

singsong

Her teeth are like jagged mountains,

So don’t tell her her smile looks like the sunset.

Her thighs are as wide as rivers,

Where a bush stays unkept upstream.

When you tell her the arch of her slender back reminds you of valleys,

She’ll remind you she was born under a rock,

The sun never showed her any love.

When she sings she is loud and raspy,

So when you tell her that her voice sounds like bluebirds,

She’ll growl at you cause there is nothing singsong about her.

- by B

[dreamingonclouds]

You ever feel poetry aching in your soul? Crawling its way up your throat. Do you feel each letter digging in your skin, forcing you to cough up alphabet soup?

by B (via dreamingonclouds)

[dreamingonclouds]

today i feel like a thunderstorm. unstoppable. chaotic. and marvelous. there are sticks in my hair that i refuse to pick. love me or leave me. i swallowed an ocean today. if you put your ear to my chest you’ll hear a choir of singing mermaids. i have absolutely nothing to apologize for.

morning thoughts as i learn how to love myself by B (via dreamingonclouds)

[dreamingonclouds]

If a squirrel was watching us from that tree there by the swings, It would see the two of us sitting in the sunlight, swinging our feet.

Oh, boy I’m crushing on you.

If the bluebirds by the flagpole were listening, they’d hear the two of us making noises with our mouths.

Now I’m listening to lofi and writing about you. And you, you’re probably reading with your daughter. I wonder if you think about me too.

I can’t stop dancing these mornings. I’m singing in the streets. And it’s because I’m crushing on you.

Today I showed you a quote by some philosopher and I’m sure the squirrels and bluebirds rolled their eyes. You smelled like citrus. I told you you’re a great storyteller and right before your daughter found you, you leaned in and said you were glad to see me again. And I felt like a kid again. Like all the other kids in the playground. Butterflies swarming around my head. And my neck felt warm, as if you had kissed me.

Maybe I’m used to undressing for intimacy. I’m used to skin on skin for an emotional connection. Maybe I’ve learned to understand men by the way they touch me. The way their fingers crawl up my skirt. But you didn’t have to touch me. To get me, oh boy, so flustered.

[dreamingonclouds]

what to do with all this trauma

[dreamingonclouds]

WHAT IS CREATION WITHOUT EMOTION????

[dreamingonclouds]

lay with me close your eyes leave soft butterfly kisses on my neck to remind me of our existence hold me gently the world is tough and we are both oh so tired watch me trace your spine with a feathery touch when i reach your shoulders i sigh theres a space in your back between your shoulder blades where my head fits just right close your eyes envision a world where only you and i exist where stress is but a distant memory the frown lines between your eyebrows are muscle memory where we watch the sunset every evening you tell me my eyes look like the horizon i tell you there is sugarcane stuck in your teeth weave your fingers into mine watch the weight of my worry finally slip away no one has ever carried so much of your suffering in her own chest you howl at the moon i cry between laughter and you don’t question it my tears glisten on my cheeks in the moonlight you offer me a dance and i refuse, refuse, refuse until i confess to you that i don’t know how you smile with all your teeth and sweep me off of my feet we sway in circles of patience you dip me in kindness no one has ever touched me so peacefully you tell me i look different in this world i tell you the same our hair never turns grey your voice sounds like piano relief looks good on you

a world where stress does not exist by B (via dreamingonclouds)

[rabbruad1]

“When people are in distress, love them more, not less.”

— Bruce Adler

[fyp-philosophy]

Perhaps it is true that we do not really exist until there is someone there to see us existing, we cannot properly speak until there is someone who can understand what we are saying in essence, we are not wholly alive until we are loved.

Alain de Botton, Essays in Love (via noorshirazie)

[dreamingonclouds]

truth is, i'm just another girl

with creative dreams

but no means

to fulfill them.

or not enough trust in myself,

or the struggle.

truth is, i just got a pen and a pad,

a voice in my mind,

and a void in my soul.

thinking my pain could be fuel to my purpose

but everyone's hurting.

shouldn't i be grateful i have a home.

yeah, i always fill the tank up half-way,

but it's half-full,

and i'm just half-depressed

and half-stressed.

I got a full fridge

and dishes in my sink.

so what if my job stinks

at least i got a job.

or if my parent's bitch

at least they’re alive

and i could say the things i wanna say

before they die

some people don't have feet

at least my tires get me where i need to be

what am i complaining for?

feels like i'm meant to help the world

but nights like these i just wanna curl in a ball

and hurl my phone at the wall,

debating if i should just end it all

i can go on like this for days,

complaining about a mediocre life

when teachers always told me i'd be great.

are my dreams too big

is my ambition too low

do i just overthink

or do i think too slow?

truth is,

the stats

are stacked

against me.

predicting i'm gonna live an average life like most people

(that's why they call it average).

should i be satisfied with what i get

and resign my expectations

or will that leave me with regret

why do i keep writing if people can write better

do i want pity 

this sounds like a suicide letter

who said death would end suffering anyway

no one's been there to really say.

truth is, i don't know shit

and i don't really know how to end this shit

so i'll just end it like this.

Truth is I’m Average by B

[dreamingonclouds]

the train ride home is a little slower today, and there’s the same feeling on each passenger’s face. the pale sunset shines weakly through the windows, and everyone sits in the sun’s excuses for a little while until it's their stop. the train vacates and leaves you with a view of illegible graffiti on old buildings, and someone’s humming quietly a few seats down, but you can’t help but wonder why it always seems to get sunny right before nightfall. it's your stop. suddenly, the trees- they know all your sorrows. and the concrete sidewalks, let you run your muddy shoes all over them. the grass is so green. there is stillness in the air, you feel the intensity and everything in between.

growing up a quiet kid by B

[purplebuddhaquotes]

“You must be ready to burn yourself in your own flame. How could you become new if you haven’t first become ashes?”

— Friedrich Nietzsche

[dreamingonclouds]

we’re friends before sisters. we’re spirits before we were bodies. and look at god. putting our spirits into the bodies of sisters.

[dreamingonclouds]

she has a lot of hair, as if God has allowed her to take up that much space.

part of a poem i’m writing to my sister by B

[dreamingonclouds]

today i feel like a thunderstorm. unstoppable. chaotic. and marvelous. there are sticks in my hair that i refuse to pick. love me or leave me. i swallowed an ocean today. if you put your ear to my chest you'll hear a choir of singing mermaids. i have absolutely nothing to apologize for.

morning thoughts as i learn how to love myself by B