[intovertigo]

Remember when she told you that for once, she didn’t want you to fuck her?

That was yesterday.

Today, she wants you to take the seams she pleaded with you to solder together and blow them apart.

Today, she wants you to find her empty places and fill them with your fingers, your tongue, your cock, your cum.

Today, she needs for you to obliterate the voices in her head with the growls that rise up from your throat when words won’t do.

Today she’s not asking for a soft touch. Today she wants to feel the clashing of bones and the sting of incisors breaking skin.

Remember when she asked you to fix her?

That was yesterday.

Today, she wants you to break her in two.

[jaysantacruz-blog]

maggie nelson, the argonauts

[lasnalgas]

“They slipped briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered.”

— F. Scott Fitzgerald, “This Side of Paradise”  (via falltospring)

[unbearablysharp]

“I don’t like being in a different timezone than everyone I love The only time I’d ever say anything meaningful & overdramatic is at midnight my time, 6 am your time So you’d be all stiff & sensible with morning while I’m oozing into the most honest hour of life”

— katejustkate, Long-Ass Poem

[shadow-writer-deactivated202111]

Ten texts from an ex lover, taken out of context.

I left you my umbrella because you promised me it wouldn’t rain.

Did you teach him that thing you like, the thumb thing? Say no.

Your face is still my wallpaper. I guess that’s not healthy.

I need you to laugh with.

Be happy. Sort of. Actually, not really.

I don’t think I’ll ever find another back pocket that fits my hand like yours. 

That ass <3

I hate you.

I love you.

Hello. Is anybody out there?

[shadow-writer-deactivated202111]

He touched my forearm, and compared my skin to milk. I laughed stupidly, muttering something about it having not seen the sun for far too long.

His hand lingered there, and as he ran his thumb back and forth along the vein underneath my wrist I thought, I don’t think there is anything more intimate than touch without intention, particularly between lovers.

[bitter-cup-deactivated20170625]

The stages of recovery

Stage 1: 

I walk down the street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I fall in. I am lost. I am helpless. It isn’t my fault. It takes forever to find a way out.  Stage 2:  I walk down the same street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I pretend I don’t see it. I fall in again. I can’t believe I am in this same place. But it isn’t my fault. It still takes a long time to get out.     Stage 3:  I walk down the same street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I see it is there. I fall in…it’s a habit…but my eyes are open. I know where I am. It is my fault. I get out immediately.  Stage 4:  I walk down the same street. There is a deep hole in the sidewalk. I walk around it.  Stage 5:  I walk down a different street. 

[deliciousinterludes]

“A soul mate’s purpose is to shake you up, tear apart your ego a little bit, show you your obstacles and addictions, break your heart open so new light can get in, make you so desperate and out of control that you have to transform your life.”

— Elizabeth Gilbert (via quotemadness)

[unbearablysharp]

This, ten times a day. Everything will be okay. John K. Samson.

[wordsnquotes]

“I want too much, she thought. I want everything. I want day and night, sleeping and waking, world without end, amen. Someone warned her once that it was fatal to tell a man you loved him. ‘What I really want,’ she said, ‘deep down, is stillness, safety. The feeling you’d always be there. I love you. I think I must have loved you without knowing it all my life.’”

—

Daphne Du Maurier, Don’t Look Now & Other Stories

Read more on wordsnquotes

(via wnq-quotes)

[shadow-writer-deactivated202111]

They are the dangerous ones. The ones that don’t try too hard.. that don’t try at all. That don’t have to. It’s in the cut of their jaw or the fullness of their lips or the slope of their neck into their shoulder blade. It’s in the way they drag on a cigarette or hold a steering wheel or run their fingers through their hair.

They are the dangerous ones. They are the ones who’ll never know how dangerous they are. And they will be the death of me.

[latenightcornerstore]

This time of night we used to take forever off the stove and save it for the morning. I remember, your hands were feather-soft and I wanted to keep you in bottles and boxes for safe-keeping. I remember, your promises could chase away the monsters in my heart and thrill it back into beating. This is the best time of night for big, gentle promises we have no way of keeping. This is when I loved you most: your tongue all thick with stars, the moon on my back, the future, less than a ghost.

I ALWAYS TRY TO TEXT YOU AT 3AM by Ashe Vernon (via latenightcornerstore)

[tat-art]

Eventually something you love is going to be taken away. And then you will fall to the floor crying. And then, however much later, it is finally happening to you: you’re falling to the floor crying thinking, “I am falling to the floor crying,” but there’s an element of the ridiculous to it — you knew it would happen and, even worse, while you’re on the floor crying you look at the place where the wall meets the floor and you realize you didn’t paint it very well.

Richard Siken (via tat-art)

[moncts]

I hope that you never, not even for one second, become a secondary character in your own story.

My spanish teacher, giving me some life advice I didn’t know I needed. (via neutral)

[soracities]

How funny, strange, that a thing can grow so powerful even when planted in the wrong place. Ideas too, I muttered. Ideas.

Louise Erdrich, The Round House (via soracities)

[3amwritting]

I’m screaming until my voice is raw, And my throat is numb. and I know you can hear me, But you must not be listening well enough, Because I’m screaming a string of words that I don’t even mean, But behind all I say, my heart is screaming “Stay”

(via 3amwritting)

[collidingouratoms-blog]

From A Black Hole To A Brilliant Star

The world didn’t revolve around us, even when I convinced myself that it did. We weren’t the only stars in the sky. We were actually one in a billion.

I loved you like you were the only one. You loved me like I was just another one. Another star you would conquer and destroy.

Maybe we weren’t meant to be, it’s so hard trying to convince myself that we aren’t. That we won’t end up together in passing years. Even though we aren’t together, I wish you the best of luck, Angel. Every God in the sky knows you deserve it.

- Aurora Borealis // September 19th, 2017