To sleep? Perchance to dream @fincaryia - Tumblr Blog

Thursday

Every Thursday afternoon Emma went to the little coffee shop next to her college to read and to drink some black tea. Every Thursday she watched, over the top of her book, a boy in the corner quietly play chords on his guitar as he wrote a song. This Thursday was just like all the others. The only exception—this time, instead of his guitar, he had a girl on his lap. A pang of jealousy hit Emma’s heart as she watched him whisper into the ear of that purple streaked black haired girl. It felt wrong seeing him without his guitar in his hands.

Slowly she looked away from the couple whose kisses lasted uncomfortably long. She tried to immerse herself into the world of Faulkner. Her mind, though, kept wandering over to the boy whose name she didn’t know. Her mind drifted to the first time she saw him. That very first Thursday when his lip ring and messy hair held her attention. He quietly wrote on a page, the tattoo on his forearm flashing. Something about him made her straight laced heart skip a beat. Today, this Thursday, it just made her want to cry.

So quietly she slipped out the door, not aware of the eyes that followed her. Every Thursday he sat across the room writing lyrics for the brown eyed girl who sipped her tea and flipped pages in a book. He wrote poetry of buttoned up blouses and A-line skirts. There was something in the way she bit her unpainted lips as she read Emerson that made his rebel heart flutter just a bit. This Thursday, he brought a girl who loved his band, and was a little closer to the league he considered himself in. But as Dylan watched the girl leave with sad brown eyes, it felt wrong not to have his guitar in his hands.

fincaryia

The Weight of a Tilted Hat

Cowboys were never my thing until you walked into the bar, all swagger and sin. Then suddenly, I had a thirst my martini could not slake. Your hat was pulled low, that cream-colored brim hiding eyes I hoped reflected the lust building in me.

The denim of your jeans rode low on lean hips, and that chambray shirt stretched across muscles built in a field, not a gym. You took the stool next to mine; I almost wrinkled my nose when you ordered a beer. My distaste was quickly forgotten as you raised the bottle to your lips.

You set it down, and I swear my heart stopped. You turned, tilting your Stetson, and said “ma’am” in that slow, slurred drawl. My toes curled at the thought of that voice bending low to my ear, growling words far more intimate.

My blush must have revealed my thoughts, because the smile you gave me was pure assumption. And I will never forget the feel of that cowboy hat brushing my cheek as you whispered, “Want to go for a ride?”

Today a barista told me I looked so sad. It took me back to the day you told me that I smiled more in the 4 hours I was with you, than you had ever seen me smile before. It broke my heart, because in both instances I was thinking of you.

He asked me my greatest fear, and I lied twice.

There was a bench on a beach that I loved. It was my place, my place to block the world out. There was a time when I would sit on top of that sand hill, and just dream of what the future would bring. You took that from me. I let you into my heart. We sat hand in hand on that bench, and promises exchanged.

When you left with my future, all that was left of my place was the past. It held no more dreams of what could be, it only held what once was. A bitter melancholy surrounded what was once only happiness. Now it is just a spot to cry. Now it is only a memorial of my defeat.

#breakup #loss #sad mood #rough draft

smudgesofink

I’m waiting. I’m waiting for the morning when I’ll wake up and surprisingly, you’re not the first thing I catch myself thinking of. I’m waiting for a 3 p.m afternoon where my heart isn’t heavy with longing for you. I am waiting for the night where you stop becoming the reason I can’t sleep, where you stop becoming the focus of my dreams. I’m waiting for the day I’ll manage to stop writing about you. I’m waiting for the moment my heart will finally realize I can’t love you any longer. Until then, I will just have to wait, and suffer this heartache a little bit more.

the waiting game (via smudgesofink)

fairytales-arent-real-here

There was you. There was me. There was us, and then there wasn’t. It was a dissolution of two souls merged as one, and I never did recover. You moved on finding solace in others. I held unto the memories like they were the only lifeline left to sanity. I forsook all others, and swore that love would never leave my lips again. I destroy me more than you ever could.

I drifted at sea; never noticing the shore as it loomed in the horizon. My eyes always turned to the vast empty blue. Hands reached to pull me back, people shouted my name, but all I heard was you telling me that your love was meant for another. Before long my heart grew numb. Before long I stopped feeling at all.

I tried to love again. I tried to trick myself into emotions. You were happily involved, and I told myself it was time to swim to shore. It was like a mirage. For I swore I was standing on the ground, but he told me I was still drowning. I wrote a fiction of him and I, but always in reality it was you holding my heart.

#rough draft #unfinished #drowning #breakup

dontiform

muscle memory

nightonblogmountain

EASY THERE, SATAN

Her entire life was remembered in numbers. Ages and dates that were milestone. Quantities and ratings were held as pieces of memories. Her entire life boiled down to a few numbers.

One was the number of men she had thought to love. Eighteen being the age her heart was first ripped to shreds. Eight was the amount of years between the first and last time she saw him.

Twenty-four was the age she decided her life needed a change.Sixty-Three days were spent in hell trying to achieve her new dream. Three the amount of metal pins put in her femur when those dreams came to a screeching halt.

She always attached numbers to the important. Every number from one to five hundred held some special meaning. So many more numbers than she believed, and somehow there was solace in that.

#numbers #therapy through writing #not quite right

“Do you ever miss this?” he asked. His hand entwined in hers as they watched the sunset together.

“Miss What?” she replied. The cool wind blowing sand up from the beach to the bench they sat on.

“Us? Together?” He said taking his eyes off the sunset to look at the slim woman next to him.

“No” She answered with no hesitation “I can’t miss something that never was”

“Never was?” he questioned “I loved you”

“Loved me?” she laughed. Her eyes raked over him, hauntingly and bitter. Neither of them faced the sunset, and the atmosphere had shifted so quickly from peaceful to wrathful. “You loved the idea of me.”

#sunset #love #fantasy #unfinished

Little Heartbreaks

For moments at a time you slip into my mind. For a minute or two I remember being loved by you, and it all feels perfect. Then I have to push you out again. I have to tell myself that you are not mine, that you were never mine nor will you ever be. If I allow you to linger too long, then I fear I will fall back in love with you. Maybe in truth I never stopped loving you, but heaven knows honesty was never my strong suit. I can handle the little heart aches of random thoughts of you. I can handle all the days without you. I cannot dwell on you, though, for I would not survive the heartbreak that is loving you again. So for small moments I remember you.

#Love #heartbreak #memories

stopbullying-blog

Wishing all of our followers a happy and healthy New Year.

From, http://www.stopbullying.gov.

ravensandrocks-deactivated20200

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