Intolerance will be our demise @intolerancewillbeourdemise - Tumblr Blog

marry me. let’s spend our week nights eating cereal on the floor when there is a perfectly fine table behind us. we can go to the movies and sit in the back row just to make out like kids falling in love for the first time. marry me. we’ll paint the rooms of our house and get more paint on us than the walls. we can hold hands and go to parties we end up ditching to drink wine out of the bottle in the bathtub. marry me. and slow dance with me in our bedroom with an unmade bed and candles on the nightstand. let me love you forever. marry me.

(via maruc)

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Autumn

I call her Autumn not because it is her name, but because it is her soul. Her hair tumbles down from her head like autumnal leaves; brown and orange, red and oh so beautiful. Her eyes, a gentle shade of brown, love everything and everyone. Her pale, untanned skin is all that autumn stands for: the sun is in short supply and she is beautiful and pale and Autumn.

Her name isn’t Autumn, but if her soul had named her, it would be.

She can see me looking at her and I’m not sure if she is flattered or confused but I will not falter. Autumn is my favourite season, and she is my favourite person.

“Stop,” she will say, a pale pink colouring her cheeks. But I do not.

She holds my face with her soft hands; I can feel her pulse through her fingers.

“Autumn,” I whisper softly against her cheek.

She says she is broken and that there are too many lost parts of her and that I can’t put her back together. What if I still want to try? Why can’t she let me try?

She begins to cry and I hold her hair back with my hands as I plant slight kisses on her cheeks, her forehead, her nose, her lips, her forehead again.

#short story #autumn #love #words #writing #creative #story