Victoria Hawkins

Twenty-two y.o. entrepreneur & caffeine addict. Co-owner of Between Friends Coffee. Graphic Designer. Swordswoman. Moon Child. #INFJ

[jerm7388]

“When I need you,  My heart becomes a tangled web Of fluttering butterflies  That ache to land somewhere safe.

When I think of you,  My mind becomes a zoo Of  caged beasts yearning to  Break free of their restraints.

When I touch you,  My hands become clambering idiots With sweaty palms and laboring senses   That fumble secretly in the dark.

When I see you,  My eyes burn holes into your every pore; Searching your freckles that map out The constellations of your skin.

When I hear you,  My ears become enamored and filled with  A soft sweet melody that is your voice, Making me forget my own name.

When I smell you,  My nose never stops inhaling  The bitter yet sweet surprise of  An earth-shattering secret. 

When I taste you,  My lips become ravishing warlords  Attempting to storm the Bastille  In yet another peaceful rebellion…”

[jerm7388]

“I would have stayed up With you all night, If I thought that maybe It would save our wild lives.

I’m walking on eggshells Just so you won’t crack. Lines have been drawn And walls have been stacked.

You continue to silence me With the words you don’t say. I’m pushed to the side While you make your own way.

The quiet is deafening: (Heart beats, swallow, then breathe.) Say something, I’m giving up; I only know how to leave.

Say something! I’m running out of things to do. Say anything; I’m giving up on you…”

[jerm7388]

“You never call me by my name anymore; You ignore the ghost that I’ve become. But I swear you can feel my breath on your neck When you turn your back on the sun.

You’ve always preferred the moon; You long to dance in her beams. But know that while you’re hiding, Things aren’t always what they seem:

I’m fading fast; I’m slipping away with the coming snow. Will your shaking hands pull me back; Will I still know you tomorrow?”

[jerm7388]

“Meet me in the forgotten alleyway; The dusty side street with a broken step down Into a graffiti sprayed masterpiece. The elegant irony is not lost on me: The true work of art is you- Only you.

There are whispers floating on the wind, Secrets waiting in the shadows. Waiting for me to finish my burned up cigarette In a haze of heavy silver-misted smoke; And there you are.

You are still you, Though dark: twisted, manipulated by cruel happenstance; Molded by warped hands fumbling in the night. I am me: Breathing in whatever it is you answer to today; We are nowhere together.

Will you meet me at the corner of broken dreams; The corner where hope lurks like a stranger, Peering cautiously from under a thick, dense blanket of fear: Like you, Merely existing.”

-JERM

[misswallflower]

In my own worst seasons I’ve come back from the colorless world of despair by forcing myself to look hard, for a long time, at a single glorious thing: a flame of red geranium outside my bedroom window. And then another: my daughter in a yellow dress. And another: the perfect outline of a full, dark sphere behind the crescent moon. Until I learned to be in love with my life again. Like a stroke victim retraining new parts of the brain to grasp lost skills, I have taught myself joy, over and over again.

Barbara Kingsolver, “High Tide in Tucson” (via misswallflower)

[alfaazkibarsaaat]

I want your Monday morning sleep soaked eyes dream drenched voice, lazy bones ‘five more minutes please babe.’ I want your Tuesday afternoon coffee break, glasses off, laughter on ‘just hold me for a while it’s been a hard day.’ I want your Wednesday evening fingers through hair teeth nibbling nails neck craning, eye glazing ‘this paperwork never ends’ I want your Thursday night drinks for two bones unbind muscles let loose flats, slacks, ‘just me and you’ I want your finally Friday stretch soul smile, sun sipping light from the glaciers in your eyes fingers unfurl, hand extends ‘c’mon babe, lets go wild’ I want your weekend. your movie marathon Saturday reading by the fireplace kissing in the blankets want your Sunday morning orange juice and pancakes white sheets, tender skin hair like the Fourth of July ‘let’s not get out of bed today.’ I want your ordinary and your stress, rest, release I want your bad day and that terrible night I want you drunk in my arms forgetting the place but never my name I want your lazy and your lonely and your fist full of fight I want you everyday in every way for the rest of my life.

On Both Knees | alfaazkibarsaaa. (via h-o-r-n-g-r-y)

[wordsnquotes]

Everyone has talent. What’s rare is the courage to follow it to the dark places where it leads.

Erica Jong (via wordsnquotes)

[5000letters]

I knew I did from that first moment we met. It was… not love at first sight exactly, but - familiarity. Like: oh, hello, it’s you. It’s going to be you.

Mhairi McFarlane  (via h-o-r-n-g-r-y)

[kirbyshay11]

I hope you find someone who randomly pulls you in closer late at night and won’t let go of you long after the hug is over and who just generally shows you that you’re all they really want in this world

[wordsnquotes]

You’ll ache. And you’re going to love it. It will crush you. And you’re still going to love all of it. Doesn’t it sound lovely beyond belief?

Ernest Hemingway, The Garden of Eden (via wordsnquotes)

[thelovejournals]

When you love someone, you say their name different. Like it’s safe inside your mouth.

Jodi Picoult, Handle with Care (via thelovejournals)

[wnq-writers]

and after all this time you’re still my favorite reason to lose sleep

yxnyxng-y2 (via wnq-writers)

[wnq-writers]

I’m not going to claim that you are everyone’s idea of perfect, but you’re certainly perfect in my eyes.

crusadertitanarum (via wnq-writers)

[wnq-writers]

The moment you smiled back, I knew I was in deep trouble.

charmingwinds (via wnq-writers)

[fyp-philosophy]

Do you love me enough that I may be weak with you? Everyone loves strength, but do you love me for my weakness? That is the real test.

Alain de Botton, Essays in Love (via h-o-r-n-g-r-y)

[defiantely-deactivated20181027]

[afadthatlastsforever]

It is so simple and effortless with you. Every moment sounds like, Welcome home.

Beau Taplin • W e l c o m e  H o m e   (via quotethat)