I sit here watching
the sky let out heavy cries
because I couldn't.

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@oldsouls-stuff
I sit here watching
the sky let out heavy cries
because I couldn't.
sometimes you meet somebody. and after that the world is all full of the taste of them. like everything turns into their scent. like you become the waves of their wake and all their bad habits. sometimes it’s just like - i’m alive, but you take up all the space i have left over. and it turns out i have a lot of space left over. i think about you so much i worry it’s become prayer. you feel like a holy ghost. you feel like the line on my palm. you feel inevitable, and unconscious, and permanent, and strong. i feel you groundbreak. i feel you while i’m drawing eyes in my margins. i feel you like forgetting a color. i feel you like morning.
I’m Not Second Place Material
I crave to connect to someone else’s heart strings,
so we can become attached
to one another.
I desire to know their mind and
how they became the person
I’m meeting today.
I want to hear what their genuine laugh sounds like and
I want to be there for them in
good times and
in bad.
I want to have those 3am conversations
so I can see another side to them
that’s for my ears only.
I want to go on special adventures with them
so we can look back on those memories
and laugh over inside jokes.
I want to actually know someone; but
I’m finding most don’t see
what I notice.
Most don’t seem to want
what I desire.
They’ll give me these lines they give to every other woman.
They’ll tell me that they think
I’m smart, interesting, or fun to be around.
They’ll tell me they think I’m beautiful.
They’ll tell me they love my ever changing blue eyes and
they look into them as if
they could get lost in my eyes.
They’ll act as if they’ve never seen blue eyes before; but
their actions speak differently.
They say all of these amazing things; but
their actions say I’m second place.
And lately I’ve been thinking
I have so much to offer
so why should I accept second place?
I want to be someone’s first choice;
not second.
Making myself a priority I’ve learned
I’m not second place material; and
if someone thinks I am
I’ll take steps backward.
So I can search for those who also believe
I’m a first choice.
thoughts
noun
·I’m sorry
for the unanswered texts my mind is all over the place
for the ignored calls it’s just too difficult to talk
for the dodged questions things are just beyond recognition
for the cancelled plans I couldn’t bring myself to have fun.
And I’m sorry
for writing all these down instead of telling anyone
for being so hard to reach I know I’m not easy to deal with
for the vague sentences I don’t even understand myself
and for being weak it’s just not easy being me.
“When you are attracted to people, it’s because of the details. Their kindness. Their eyes. The fact that they can get you to laugh when you need it the most.”
— Jodi Picoult
Old souls make the most youthful love.
Juansen Dizon (via juansendizon)
You weren’t ever really mine and I wasn’t ever really yours. I liked to think that because it made my heart dance inside my chest, and it cleared my lungs from choking on the broken thoughts that always get spilled from my head. You always told me that you were mine, and you told me that I was yours. But in a world filled with fiction we started to blend. Months went by slowly but too fast. We built bridges between our hearts. It was fun and I felt free. But the thing is. You always thought about yourself. You put yourself first. You invented little lies and made pretend that you were making a constellation about us. And then it happened. One day the bridge between our heart fell to the ground. It was slow but everything seemed so fast. You left. And I’m here still mourning you like you’re dead. Maybe all along you really were.
— Alexa Evangelista, the book I’ll never finish writing
CONNECTED for @sunsetpinks ( source: 2. 4. 6)
I cherish small intimacies. A head resting against a shoulder, lips brushing against a nose, a kiss on the neck, a hand reaching out for my own
the interjection/ when seasons change/ I begin to feel different/ I begin to feel strange/ like a tightrope walker with no net/ like riddled answer/ I haven't figured out yet/ everything is always changing/ everything is always in transition/ things tend to disappear on me/ I'm an accidental magician
Poems & Words
Crow, crow, the sun’s sinking low as another day comes to an end. Fly home in that sunset, rainbow sky where you’ll rest ‘til a new dawn begins.
Photos and tiny poem by Amber Maitrejean
“there’s just something so hopeful about a sunset. it’s like the universe’s way of reminding you that even the darkest days can end beautifully.”
— note to self: it won’t always be so gray (cc, 2017)