Sleep, child. The dark is not always cruel... sometimes it only wants to be understood
There are rooms in our soul where light never enters. Truths live there, soft,forgotten things that have learned the shape of dark. They no longer seek escape. They only breathe and call it peace.
October isn’t for mending broken hearts. It’s for messily glueing the pieces into a sharp, jagged, monstrous little thing, something with claws, with fangs. October isn’t for mending hearts; it’s for devouring them.
I told you I wouldn't blame you for flinching so you threw a punch or two instead. Now I'll carry something of yours to my grave while mourning the chance to know if you'd have flinched.
(Affectionately, lovingly, flirty) There’s something deeply wrong with you
Is this fucking play about us?
You’re always within eyesight and I’m always within touching distance and there’s nothing between us; nothing but the line we crossed that became a circle we can’t escape from.
I don’t need to understand, I don’t need to see. It’s all dreadfully clear.
That's almost word for word... 😅
You say, ‘A kiss could ruin this friendship.’ And I think to myself, ‘I would rather be ruined by you than saved by anyone else,’ but what I end up saying is, ‘Do it slowly, then. Make it worth the pain.’
He writes… They say love cannot be silent, but I’ve heard it roar in the breathless spaces between what we meant to say. They say it cannot be one-sided— yet I’ve seen love hold when hands were empty. They say it must grow safe— but I know love as river, not garden: it comes…
You're not my girl. You're not my anything. The moment I put a name to you, I lessen you. Lessen us. So no, you're not my girl. You're more. 💙
The long lost art of holding hands intimately while conversing openly.
Think I'll chop off all my hair again. (don't worry, I'll leave enough for you to pull...)
I know we were doomed before we began, and we began before we knew, but I'd do it again. In every lifetime. Until we find the right one.
Sometimes I think so hard about you I wonder how you don't feel it too.
She hears the song and wonders if she's ever been truly loved by a hand that's touched her. Valid question. The answer lies on my fingertips, always a breath away, waiting for permission. Please, please, please...
“You were destined for me. Perhaps as a punishment”. — Fyodor dostoesvsky
I can smell your house on me. Your fabric softener, I think? It lingers, no matter how short a time I'm there. You're miles away and I smell like you. (I want you closer) ((I want you))
"autumn"
“One day you will meet someone who crashes into your bones like a wildfire, and together you will burn and love until you wake up one morning beside the ashes of what was. However, you will always taste forest fires in the back of your throat whenever you hear their name.”
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