Yellow Is The Color Of Happiness

[dappledwithshadow]

Illustrations in Yellow by Alessandro Gottardo (aka SHOUT)

[itquiet-deactivated20240530]

[follow-gusvsant-deactivated2014]

River Phoenix behind the scenes of My Own Private Idaho (1991)

[traced-veins]

I’m done thinking about you. The way we always sat in your car with nothing to say. We always fucked just to fill the silence so please stop calling me, it’s not like we have anything to say now either. Because I’m done being the bad girlfriend. You accused me of using you for sex and money when all I ever wanted was to have fun and honestly I find it pretty fucking funny that you’re so damn arrogant. I bet the guy you hate can fuck me better than you ever could and I bet he won’t break up with me after telling me “I love you” six times in a row (And then wanting me back again) So I’m done taking all the blame. Our love was a double edged sword where you were the only real victim and I guess my knife wounds didn’t fucking count. But guess what, I’m done now and in the end we both know I’ll get over it and you never will.

m.l.b, I wrote a poem for you (via traced-veins)

[traced-veins]

The suffering you let yourself feel does not linger like the one you don’t invite in. That’s the dangerous kind you stuff away in a duffle bag under the bed in hopes of never seeing again. The one you cut out of your skin with a pair of scissors and a glass of gin. But at night it drifts through the cracks of your mattress and back into your brain. You see, that kind of pain invites itself in. Steps right through the closed door and won’t leave you again. The suffering you don’t let yourself feel lingers more than if you just invited it in. You see, it hurts less if you don’t tense up before the knife goes in.

m.l.b, the art of suffering (via traced-veins)

[traced-veins]

Her smile tastes like honey but you know she isn’t sweet. the way she rips you up for dinner and calls it a date, like she wants something from you other than just your lips, and pause. now think about it, her hands have always felt kind of shaky like last night she fell apart on the telephone and all of the I love you’s sounded like calls for help when she whispered it. syllables lost in translation; why is it that you’re always one sentence behind in understanding her while she reads you as easily as her old poetry you think her laughter sounds like melancholy sometimes but you know she isn’t sad. or at least that’s what her body spells out when she’s on top of you and it feels like a magic spell. you try to discern reality from dream: she kisses your neck and calls you baby and honey and I love you and now that you think about it, her eyes are always hiding something like tonight they’re all frost and ice but the warm up only creates more storms You think it’s always oh so good, but in between kisses there is only rain.

m.l.b, girl like rain (via traced-veins)

[traced-veins]

Forgiveness is a word too often spoken and never understood. a concept without much substance. it’s the way they place bandaids on scar tissue and call it making up. as if they had done all the healing. Forgiveness isn’t just about letting go. it’s making sense of the pain that was handed to you. and when they try to paint over the knife wounds, darling, do not listen. you’ll learn that some people are so dangerous, they make forgiving itself destructive, too.

[traced-veins]

how do I fit all of these feelings inside my head? because lately, the space has been all taken up by you. listen: I feel like a stranger in my own home when I’m not with you. as if nothing makes me feel good anymore but you. how do I fit all of this love inside my chest? because lately, there’s no one else but you. because in my dreams I drive 153 miles just to see you. because in my dreams you’re there waiting for me, too.

[traced-veins]

He’s loud, she’s mean. At dinner they sharpen their claws. Neither pause to look up at the tension hanging dangerously low above their heads, about to fall. Tonight it seems they are hiding their pain behind rims of tall wine glasses and in between mouthfuls of food. I keep my gaze trained on the ground and set my fork down slowly. It takes a dangerous kind of patience to sit and wait for the best moment to set fire to your most expensive table cloth. To pull out your knives and guns from underneath the table before anyone else does. They tell me the trick is to not hesitate. He’s loud, she’s mean. They use their claws while I later clean up the bloodstains.

m.l.b, table manners (via traced-veins)

[traced-veins]

ethereal isn’t exactly a word on everybody’s lips. but each time we kiss, I recognize the taste of it on yours. it’s a mix of lavender and dusk. of snow falling softly and the sound of drizzling rain. last night I woke up to find the word written on the palms of your hands, the way they felt when you held me, when you had them wrapped around my neck. this morning I woke up with knots in my stomach and I felt it again. it had buried itself in the curve of my waist, the dip of my hipbones. an ache just at the though of you. it seems that some things are almost too perfect to exist in a bleak world as this. listen: I now know that you taste of an ethereal kind of pain. the one that will continue to hurt for years to come. the one I’ll beg for just to spend another day in bed with you, to feel all of this with your lips on mine.

[traced-veins]

are u are butterfly or a firefly person? Hot spring or cold lake? Flower field or dense forest? Misty morning or rainy evening?

[traced-veins]

In another universe we can pause time so that you won’t get 6 missed calls from home while our bodies are melting into each other. We wait until it becomes summertime inside your bedroom while the rest of the world is still covered in snow.

[sapphiccore]

mellow in yellow!!

[ex-harryslovelylocks-blog]

[fifidunks]

his flowers look good in my room

[w6ter]

🌦

[traced-veins]

Do not be gentle with me. There is an ocean within me that hungers for somebody to drown. Somebody to drag into the motionless dark, to sink all the way down to the ocean floor. When I cried over you it only made it stronger. I feed it tears, create more storms. So please do not be gentle with me. In a good fight, the ocean promises to love the pain.

m.l.b, do not be gentle (via traced-veins)