we keep our hearts in cages

This blog will consist mainly of my own writing. I am a 17 year old girl and constructive criticism is welcome.

[treetrunksensations]

It's been over five weeks. I'm still trying to spit you out of my mouth, but you're stuck between my teeth like tiny, green strawberry seeds. You should taste like rotten fruit by now, but you still feel like wine, the way you set my insides aflame. The taste of you lingers on the floor of my tongue, dancing in shock waves. I can't help but want you again. And again. It's been over five weeks, and you still have your teeth dug in me, bleeding blissful poison into my veins. You spin inside my head space. I am dizzy from seeing you places where you're not. I can't walk the streets in peace. I dream about you, I dream about you, I dream about you. It's been over five weeks.

Secrets I by E (treetrunksensations)

[thinsters]

"My throat is on fire. I don’t know if it’s the vomiting or the cigarettes or if it’s just all the things I wish I could say to you."

I’m obsessed with this, omfg. 

[cahffe]

the sky is pretty

[honeyforthehomeless]

The most wonderful opportunity which life offers is to be human.

Henry Miller, “Tropic of Capricorn” (via honeyforthehomeless)

[diaryofacreativehoarder]

Painting through the night. Can’t wait to be at good health and get my sleeping pattern back.

[eug96]

Alcohol tasted better than you, anyway.

6-word story #8

(via lepetitchatblanc)

[treetrunksensations]

1. I still think of him before I fall asleep, when my eyes are closed and my feet are cold. I feel so little when the wind is coughing outside. Clean sheets feel like love sometimes.

by E (treetrunksensations)

[blastedheath]

[treetrunksensations]

Brett Whiteley (Australian, 1939-1992), The Divided Unity, 1974. Screenprint, 66.5 x 93.5 cm. Edition 63/70.

[insight-jd]

[treetrunksensations]

fuck me out of my body in the dark

[teddytutson]

Gods always behave like the people who make them.

Zora Neale Hurston, “Tell My Horse” (1938)

[apoetreflects]

I’m the one who’s been asking you— it hurts to ask—Who are you? I am orphaned each time the sun goes down. I can feel cast out from everything and even churches can look like prisons. That’s when I want you— you knower of my emptiness, you unspeaking partner to my sorrow—

Rainier Maria Rilke, from “Ich bin derselbe noch, der kniete (I’m still the one who knelt before you),” from Rilke’s Book of Hours: Love Poems to God, tran. Anita Barrows and Joanna Macy (Riverhead Books, 1996)

[treetrunksensations]

I don't understand what happened. I've been doing so much better with those thoughts lately, with the guilt, and then it all came crushing down on me, at once. I can't handle it, I just wish I could undo this night somehow. I feel aaaawfulll.

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

Let’s just lay around and make love and take walks and talk a little.

Charles Bukowski, from “Post Office” (via violentwavesofemotion)

[eatsleepjohnmayer]

Just be fucking honest about how you feel about people while you’re alive.

John Mayer (via fvckem)

[ahuntersheart]

… to have kissed your mouth with the force of language, to have spoken your name at all.

Greg Watson, from “Now" in The Distance Between Two Hands (March Street Press, 2008)

[lora-mathis]

I WANT YOU TO UNDRESS ME TO THE SOUND OF ALL YOUR DEFENSES COLLAPSING.

Lora Mathis