marie @lacedpureangel - Tumblr Blog

A little reminder for anyone who needs to hear it today:

You are not too much. You are not too “difficult” to love. You are a one-of-a-kind person with your own story, your own scars, and your own beautiful little quirks that make you, you.

I thought I wasn’t familiar with art until I learned the art of letting go.

Tell me, how do you loosen your grip on something so breathtaking without leaving pieces of yourself behind? It stings, because some things are too beautiful to become memories.

#aesthetic #sapphic #wlw #lgbt #older women wlw #poetry #quotes #d/s sub #older woman wlw #d/s relationship #poem

Waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting.

#sapphic #aesthetic #poetry #quotes

Your souls is something to be cherished, to be written about, to memorise so the world never forgets.

#aesthetic #sapphic #wlw #lgbt #poetry #quotes

“I love you, I love you, I told you I do. It’s all I’ve ever felt, I’ve never felt so well. And if you don’t know it, I wrote you this tune. To be here, loving you when i’m in the tomb”

#aesthetic #sapphic #wlw #lgbt #older women wlw #older woman wlw #quotes #wlw yearning #Spotify

Take care of your beautiful souls 🤎

#sapphic #aesthetic #wlw #quotes #poetry

quotefeeling

“The idea of not being a kid anymore terrifies me. I am an adult and I have been hurled out of the world of boys and girls into the fray of men and women, and expected to function as a grown-up when I never functioned very well as a kid.”

— Kelley York

vexheart

The fine line between wanting to say so much and knowing that it's better to say nothing.

#aesthetic #sapphic #quotes #poetry

It feels so strange to come back to the place you called “home” for most of your life. Everything feels different and familiar at the same time. As if time paused there for a while, even though so much has changed. You changed. You grew up. But the people around you… somehow they seem exactly the same.

I walk through the streets where my granddad taught me how to ride a bike, where I first fell and scraped my knees. I pass the school where I spent so many of my days. The walls are still beige, with those bright curtains glowing softly through the windows. Kids are running around outside, laughing with their friends, just like we used to.

I walked past the building where I once lived. The playground is still there. But something feels missing, and I can’t quite explain what it is. Maybe it’s the familiar laughter. Maybe it’s the part of my heart that still belongs to that place, hidden somewhere behind the windows where strangers live now. Where my room is no longer mine.

Nostalgia feels like a warm but unbearably heavy blanket - something you carry carefully and gently, even when its weight never really leaves you.