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Peter Solarz
sheepfilms
Love Begins
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
tumblr dot com
Sweet Seals For You, Always
YOU ARE THE REASON
d e v o n
izzy's playlists!
noise dept.
occasionally subtle
One Nice Bug Per Day
Kaledo Art
cherry valley forever
blake kathryn
oozey mess
DEAR READER
Claire Keane
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@publicdancing-blog
purple
I left my lighter in your car It was purple Like the mark you made on my neck Like the blood in my veins
The mark on my neck faded eventually The blood in my veins is still pumping
My lighter is still in your car Under a pile of scarves and scraps of paper burning nothing burning everything
- T.P.
Why'd you only call me when you're high?
realizations
As human beings, we are constantly growing and learning. Despite our need to look forward and press on into the unknown future, what can we really know if we don’t look to our past?
Sometimes, when we look into our past we discover things. We have immense realizations.
The most crushing and emotional realization is finding that you loved someone.
How can we fall in love and not know it?
It’s easier than you think.
You grow comfortable with someone. Friendship, you call it. He makes you laugh, he makes you smile, he makes you blush. Such good friends. You think about him all the time. Literally, all the time. What he must be doing, how he should really watch that documentary about the history of indie music, what you’re going to say to him tomorrow. You chalk it up to friendship — close friends, even.
Because you don’t know what love is.
Or at least you think you don’t.
He’s such a good friend, sending you a cheery message in the morning that makes you smile as you dread waking up and starting your long day. He asks you how your day was, are you tired?
He’s so sweet.
Soon, you feel it. You feel the tug in your chest when he smiles at another girl. You feel the churn in your stomach when he talks about the pretty girl he saw at dinner last night.
You find that you crave to touch him, your fingers zig-zagging down the smooth planes of his chest, feel his arm around your shoulders as you lay in bed together. You want to hear the oceans that flow from his tongue, see the forest growing in his chest, grab at the flowers growing out of his ribs.
You run a finger down your own cheek to feel his touch. You close your eyes to see his face, hear his voice, watch his mouth form the letters that spell out your name.
Everything is dull when he’s not there.
He is the color in your black and white world.
But he is slipping away from you. You flounder in the open water of his absence. You’re drowning, slowly. And no one can hear you screaming inside your own head. Food loses its taste. You struggle to smile.
You miss him.
And that’s when it hits you.
Love.
All those deep-seated emotions, all the nights you wished he was laying next to you, all that sadness.
That was love.
You loved him.
You can’t believe it. It couldn’t have been love.
How could love be pain?
If that was love, then you pitied the poor fool who fell in love.
thunder
For as long as she could remember, thunder had terrified her to the core.
It reminded her of when her parents fought and the floor would shake.
She could remember being a little girl in her matching pajama set, her big sister tucking her back into bed and covering her ears so she wouldn’t hear the shouting.
She wasn’t a little girl anymore, but she just couldn’t shake her fear of the thunder.
She told him this quietly, wrapped up in blankets, clutching her knees to her chest, as if she was back in that matching pajama set, back in her childhood bedroom.
He listened to her with a furrowed brow and shaking hands. When her words began to falter and tears seemed ready to flow from those big, sad brown eyes, he inched closer to her, pulling her out of her cocoon of quilts.
He held her close, her head on his chest, and engulfed them both in the comforters. His arms wrapped around her tightly, encasing her in his warmth.
Her unsteady breathing slowed as she inhaled his warm scent, the spicy, woodsy cologne she loved.
How could she love him? All she’d ever seen of love was the pain that it caused. She didn’t know what love was supposed to look like. He should go before she hurt him. That’s what she said, trying to pull away.
He kissed her. He made a promise to himself to heal her.
But that’s the thing about promises - easy to make, easy to break.
cold
I rolled over, the crumpled white sheets moving with me. I never could manage to sleep past 9:30 — the sun always woke me up, no matter how much I tried to fight it.
The space next to me was still warm. I couldn’t tell if the faint scent of Bleu de Chanel was coming from the pillow or from my body. I smiled to myself when I realized it was both.
I blinked my eyes open, squinting against the sudden brightness, wondering if you were still in bed. I found myself alone.
Sitting up, I reached for the first swatch of fabric I could find. It happened to be your favorite grey t-shirt, the one you got after you ran that race back in high school. The soft cotton felt like a warm hug, enveloping me in your fragrance.
You were in the kitchen, with a pot of coffee brewing. I watched you from behind, the way your muscles stretched taut against your smooth skin, tanned from the surprising June heat. You rotate your wrists, letting them crack while you sigh. I follow the rise and fall of your shoulders. You sense my presence and look over your shoulder. You smile, and I admire the beautiful way your eyes crinkle up at the corners. You turn and stretch out a hand. I take it and you pull me closer, into your heat.
I melt. Like I always do. In your heat, I melt, like a popsicle in the middle of July.
Tracing my fingers over your tattoos, I don’t meet your eyes. I let my hands do the talking, while yours slide down my waist, resting on the curve beneath that grey cotton t-shirt. The rough fingers of your large hands rub circles into my soft skin, and I finally look up.
Your light brown eyes are clouded over, pupils dilated, and I see the lust in your unblinking gaze.
I can’t seem to take my eyes off your pink lips — they look so gentle in the rugged landscape of your masculine face, lost amidst the stubble you grew out to look “just a bit older.” I always liked the beard. I said it made you look tougher — more like the man I wanted you to be, the one that would sweep me off my feet.
I want to kiss you. I won’t deny it. I can’t deny it. And I want you to kiss me back. I want to be so tangled up in you that we don’t know where I start and you end.
Everything is out of focus, like someone’s clicked the blur effect on an Instagram photo. The only thing that seems real is you. You and your smile, the one that always changes my mind. You and your smirk, the one that appears when you know I want you. You and your warm embrace, the one that lingers for just a bit too long. You and your strong arms that wrap around and hold me tight.
You’re leaning in. Your lips moving closer to mine. Your breath hot on my face as your hands tangle up in my hair. You cup my face and I lean in to meet you.
I rolled over, the crumpled white sheets moving with me. I never could manage to sleep past 9:30 — the sun always woke me up, no matter how much I tried to fight it.
The space next to me was cold.
- T
I’ve stopped being sorry for all my soft. I won’t apologise because I miss you, or because I said it, or because I text you first, or again. I think everyone spends too much time trying to close themselves off. I don’t want to be cool or indifferent, I want to be honest. If I love you at 5AM, I’d damn well rather that you know I felt it. If I love you two hours later, I’ll tell you then too. Listen, I won’t wait double the time it takes for you to text me back because I don’t want to. I don’t care enough to be patient with you. I’m happy, you made me feel that way, don’t you want to know? So that’s how it’s going to be. I’m going to leave myself as open as a church door. And I’m going to wake you up before the crack of dawn to tell you that I’m fucking joyful, no pretending, not from me, not ever. Would you like some coffee, would you please kiss me? Here, these are my hands, this is my mouth, it is all yours.
Azra.T “Don’t Wait Three Days to Text First.” (via bruzes)
It’s been a year since our so-called relationship first started. And I’m proud to say that even though it took me a year, I’m over you. I don’t like thinking about you. I don’t want to think about you. You don’t register anywhere in my life. I breathe in and breathe out, and your name is no longer part of my inhale and exhale. I don’t fantasize about you anymore. I don’t unneccessarily romanticize my thoughts about you anymore. We’re done. We’re through.
I’m over you.
i want to know your birthday and your parents jobs and if you ever heard them fighting or having sex and if you love your siblings and the worst fight you’ve ever gotten into and if you like one sibling more than the other and what you wanted to be when you grew up when you were seven and your dream vacation and the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to you and if you’ve been to therapy and if it helped and the hardest thing you’ve experienced and how you overcame it and if you like what you see when you look in the mirror and if you think appearances matter in a relationship or at all and your favorite movie and which books changed your life and the hardest you’ve ever cried and which grandparent you loved the most and if the words “we need to talk” make you sick to your stomach and why and which holiday is your favorite and which season and which color and if you like rain and if you’re scared of dying and if you believe in god and if you have allergies and to what and what your favorite food is and restaurant and if you like to cook and whether or not you care about cleanliness and what your political views are and if you’re a feminist and your favorite flower and song and if you’d rather own a cat or a dog and if you’d shave off all your hair to give it to a little girl going through chemotherapy and where you’d like to live and honeymoon and what kind of gum and candy you like and what you act like when you’re mad and if you’d rather someone buy you silver or gold jewelry or neither and what clique you were in in high school and what you think your spirit animal is and which flower you’d be and who you admire and which traits you wish were more dominant and if you ever worry you’re a shitty person and what hurt you the most and why you ever thought you were worthless and how someone can make you feel better when you’re sad and if you prefer hugs or kisses and what your house looks like and what your dream car is and which celebrity you think lives the most tragic life and why you think people become so cold and what you think about nature vs nurture and if you believe in heaven and aliens and mermaids and reincarnation and the bible and which feeling is your least favorite and what was the best day you ever had and what would be the best day and if you see yourself as the protector or one who needs protecting and how you deal with your pain and what you would do if you had 100 million dollars and if you think wealth affects people’s morals and what good you think writing is and if you could do it all over, would you and what would you change and what mistake was your biggest and which language you wish you spoke fluently and how many people you’ve loved and if you loved the person you lost your virginity to and if you realize you’re remarkable and what your enneagram is and how you think we could improve the education system and what you think of people who commit suicide and if you think they’re selfish and what you say to them before they did it if you could and what your favorite memory of your childhood is and how you take your tea or if you prefer coffee and when you last wrote someone a handwritten letter and what the best gift you ever received was and what the best piece of advice was and when the last time you cried was and if you’re competitive about board games and which is your favorite and if you feel pressured to settle down and what you notice first in a person and what your top three pet peeves are and if you have any phobias and what you’ve always wanted to do but don’t have the courage to go through with and what you do when you feel overwhelmingly sad and if you ski and if plastic surgery was 100% safe and painless, would you get it and where and why and where you think home is and if you think politeness is important and what you think of indecisive people and if you think there’s ever a reason to go to war and something that scares you and if you believe in therapy and what you want in life and what you look for in a partner and what you want to change about yourself and about the world and who you want to be and who you are. just tell me who you are.
I Want To Know You by Me (excerpt from my book)
and i’m scared there are moments you will touch me, but be craving her. i am scared there will be a moment when you start to realise it is not me that you want.
Life is too short for shitty sex and bad relationships. So go find someone who fucks you right and treats you how you deserve to be treated.
(via eroticbaker)
People get drunk They hook up with the wrong person And pretend to be okay People act tough And get mad People will do anything to distract their heart. They will do anything to distract it from missing someone.
Distraction in its true form (via thisisnotmyfairytaleendingg)
Sadly, I still think of you
Six word story #29 (via sad-butsassy)
When I first met you, that’s what I remember. I looked up at the sky and thought, I’m going to love this person because even the sky looks different.
Margaret Stohl, Beautiful Chaos (via metaphorically)
When I first met you, I felt a kind of contradiction in you. You’re seeking something, but at the same time, you are running away for all you’re worth.
Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore (via marcescentfleur)
You deserve someone who knows how to make things up to you after hurting you. Not someone who is very good with just the word “sorry.”
(via sadgurl95)
“When love is not madness it is not love.”
― Pedro Calderón de la Barca (via psych-quotes)
