Fading Pencil

Stories | Thoughts | Poems | Life | Love | Loss A blog about what moves | darkens | shatters my world. Be my guest and make yourself at home.

[thinkpozitiv]

Sometimes the wrong choices bring us to the right places. http://ift.tt/2mjuS2D

[thinkpozitiv]

I am a daydreamer and a night thinker http://ift.tt/2n67pli

[thinkpozitiv]

“You’re gonna be happy” said life, “but first I’ll make you strong.” http://ift.tt/2lYV8xy

[fadingpencil]

Salt and Vinegar

Your hand is tickling over my forearm. We're naked on the couch, only wrapped in a towel, and as I'm watching you, I can't help but to think about how different we appear at first glance. You are this small person, and I'm quite the opposite. We don't share the same skin colour, not the same mother tongue. The places we were born in could hardly be any more different. You are a child of mixed cultures. Cultures I could only observe and admire from the distance. I'm an only child, you have all your siblings. A huge family you haven't even met entirely yet, even though they're calling you on a fairly regular basis and are sending you presents. While my family grudges anyone anything as long as they can't take advantage of it. However, despite all our visual differences, our different background, the shade of our skin, the accents we speak in each other's language, the pigments in our eyes, or the colour of our scars, I've barely met anyone I felt that kindred to before. With a similar state of mind. The things we like and we believe in. The weird things we laugh about. My hand is tickling over your neck and as I'm watching you smile, I can't help but think about how similar we are. "What are your favourite chips?" you ask, just as if you wanted to prove me right. We're kinda creeped out again, but we laugh, we hug and we kiss. Any suddenly I can't see any difference at all. - Me.

[quotesndnotes]

Take the mask off when you speak to me. —via http://ift.tt/2eY7hg4

[thinkpozitiv]

We meet everyone for a reason.. http://ift.tt/2lRNUIw

[fadingpencil]

Don't drink and drive

“Don’t drink and drive” they say. Yet here we are in my parent’s car. And I’m driving, drunk on your lips.

You’re tired, but we don’t have to talk. The radio is mute, we are silent. My hand is resting on the steering wheel, the other on your leg. Yours on my neck, tickling over my skin.

We’re stopping at a red light. “Give me a kiss” - I love it, when you’re talking English to me. Another shot of lips and we’re keep heading into the night.

You’re tired, but we don’t have to talk. Because we know, that right now, in this moment, without a doubt, everything is how it’s supposed to be.

At least I do.

- Me.

[haleyincarnate]

Based off of this post by @lemonswithtequila

[fadingpencil]

Back to life

"Well, so that just happened." she says. "That was a first for me right there." - "Me too." I don't even feel awkward. Not one bit ashamed. Somehow everything is just so easy with you. Like everything is supposed to be exactly like this. I am not used to this. I don't know me like that. And I don't know how to handle myself right now. You are supposed to be a stranger, but somehow you are familiar. You are supposed to be distant, but somehow you are close. I wished you could've seen me the last two years. Well, actually I don't. I wished no one saw me the last two years. But if you would've, you could see the impact you have on me. Could see the change you're causing. I'm certain my folks will tell you tho. And they will love and praise you as the one, who brought me back to life. Thanks for that. - Me.

[cinderlea-deactivated20210428]

via We Heart It

[danger]

[lyrc-type]

Even more in love with me you’d fall

Hey There Delilah // Plain White T’s

[fadingpencil]

We walk. We talk. We laugh. I already like just looking at you. Love to watch you laugh. To hear you speak. I can't help but to think that my friends would like you. That my mom would like you. You're introducing me to your sister. You guys are really something else. The kind of family I ever wanted to be part of. I can't help but to believe that I'd fit in. That I'd really like to get to know them all. It's getting late, we're getting quiet, the television is muted. I guess I know what you're thinking. I'm thinking about it too. However I'm too awkward to do it. Gosh, why is this so hard for me? We walk. We talk. We kiss. And I start questioning myself. - Me.

[fadingpencil]

"Come here"

The rain is real on my way home. Everything is pitch black. It’s late by now. The road is flooded, soaked, shiny like a mirror. I am blind for the night. But…

I can see your face in the reflection of the lights.

I can hear you laughing over the radio speakers.

I can feel your body over the seatbelt on my chest.

I can still taste your lips. I’ve captured your scent. Remembered all of your words. “Come here!” - And here I am. Not planning to leave. Not willing to move.

For you have carved a smile into my face. Forged hope into my heart.

And I love the way you kiss.

- Me.

[written-in-pen]

Perhaps we love those who remind us most of our favorite poems.

E. Grin (via written-in-pen)

[vanish]

[caelumjames6]

@elevated-thoughtsss i’m sorry

[stckwll]

I feel better (but I fear for those who don’t)