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  • 2 days ago
  • 10104

The greatest gift you can give someone is the space to be his or herself, without the threat of you leaving.

Kai, Lessons in Life #39  (via 1112pm)
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  • 2 days ago
  • 23119

I am too intelligent, too demanding, and too resourceful for anyone to be able to take charge of me entirely. No one knows me or loves me completely. I have only myself

Simone de Beauvoir  (via urbannativegirl)
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  • 2 days ago
  • 24356

I’m still sorry about it all. I hope the walls don’t talk about me. I hope the stairwells stopped creaking my name. I know I’ve got a lightning rod spine, and it hurts to stand up for anything anymore, but in my defense, I never did get your letters. The ones where you explain your silence when I asked what your nightmares were about months ago. The ones where you say they were always about losing me. It’s been so long, and I don’t know what Everests are taking your breath away, but I’ll take this feeling and drop it like an avalanche that couldn’t hold on anymore. That is to say I’ll still love you, but now I’ll just do it quietly. Did you know that there’s a place in Istanbul where the light pours in through the mosques and everyone there becomes holy at the same time? I meet you there every time my eyes close. When I check my messages, I listen for your voice first. I’ll miss you always. Come back home when it gets too dark.

Y.Z, did you name the ache I left with you? (via rustyvoices)
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  • 3 days ago
  • 632

I can hear the
sand calling me
from the shore as
it longs to be held
in my hands once

I can hear the
laughter of the
people that turned
my world inside out.

I can taste the sun
that flirted off the
roofs of the cars while
we flirted inside.

I can still smell the love
through all of the
anger and silly arguments
like splinters in our sides
that were already made
of wood.

I can feel my blood
beating in the hands
and chests
of the rest of them,
cause we shared
something together
that I don’t care to
get back.

c.b. By the oceans (via a1ign)
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  • 3 days ago
  • 31

you hide yourself under smoke screens
and smeared lipsticks where only other
boys’ hearts can be heard breaking.
you pretend that you have spun yourself
in between the gaps of his open palms,
but when he closes his hands to keep
you in, he feels nothing but emptiness.

he says that he’s going to unravel you,
that one day your skin will shed for him
to finally kiss, but you keep on curling
yourself up for your bones to crack.
he says that one day he will get your
old parts back.

but your last lover pretended that you
were rain and tried to get you to burn,
so your skin was an assembly of every
mistake and pain he’d said you’d
earned. if that was love, you don’t want
to know it anymore.

and he says that you are a tiny winter,
that your skin is cold, but he is warm
fire. and when he kisses you, you will
melt right in his arms. you think that
if this is love, then i’m glad i’m
breaking my own heart.

"He wants to know everything about me. But if I told him the real me, my thoughts, my last. He’d run away." || m.a.p. (via rhapxody)
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  • 3 days ago
  • 14

You are thirteen and tasting lightning
And you don’t understand why
He can’t say back the words
Even you don’t understand
And this is how a boy destroys you.

You are thirteen with a black hole heart
And baby cheeks and a teaspoon, teacupsize
You know that it wasn’t right, but
You were just. so. cute.
It was just a joke—
You’re such a joke.
And suddenly it’s 9-1-1
You have a body
You have a soul, too, but mostly a body
And you hate it.
And this is how a boy destroys you.

You are fourteen, a sinking ship of bad poetry
And you are so alone in your sinkhole bed
Kept alive by a boy with pretty eyes
Who will never love you
And you understand.
And this is how a boy destroys you.

You are fourteen with gentle hands tugging you out of your first grave
When the first questions come
You are excited
When he asks for your number and
Wants to uncomplicate you.
Then he asks for your advice and
He calls you an angel
And you do not call him crazy
And this is how you destroy a boy.

You are fifteen and falling apart.
You are full of self-loathing
And you’re mostly a body, so
You run away since all you do now is run
And the voices don’t stop,
But yours does.
And this is how you destroy everything.

You are fifteen when you come home to
Warm arms and warm laughs and
Embrace them with your ever-Elsa body
And you still think too much about being just a body
When he calls you beautiful
And you call him crazy
Until the pills make the numbers smile
And this is how you destroy yourself

You are sixteen, a stitched-together puppet girl
You are a mariannette and
He gets your strings tangled up
And you can’t help, but blame him for everything.
And this is how a boy destroys you.

You are sixteen and so full
Of unwanted emotions and desires
You starve out everything else
You try to burn away the guilt because
He’s perfect.
Why aren’t you dating?
What is wrong with you?
And you’re mostly a body, a broken one at that
And you cannot stand the taste of
Your own breath if
That is true because
He makes your skin into termites
And this is how a boy destroys you.

You are seventeen and carrying around
Your cracked, stained glass mind
And when you tell him, he wants to
Save you but still thinks
You are perfect
He won’t acknowledge how hard it is
To keep you head out
Of panic and pain, and relapse and failure
Are four-letter synonyms
And he says, “I love you.”
And you are so confused and tired of being confused, you say,
And this is how a boy destroys you.

You are seventeen and you don’t
Sleep or always sleep
When your best friend begs you to
Stop dying
But you swear she can’t know Death
Like you do
And you’re too tired to keep swallowing
All you want is the high, no side effects
You’re so full that
You’re hungry.
You can barely remember
Your name or his or
How honesty looks uncut
And there is nothing for you.
And this is how you discover you’re a healthy corpse
And no more.
And this is when you get fed up
By boys destroying you.

You are tired of numbers
And opening your mouth
To glaze a lie
You don’t mean to be mean
But gather up the iron you’ve been lacking
Because you’re tired of early coffins
And he doesn’t understand why
You can’t say back the words
Even he doesn’t understand
But this isn’t about him for once.
And this is how you destroy a boy.

this is how you destroy (via quietlyiwillnot)
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  • 3 days ago
  • 28

Tell me why I let you have me and all of my broken pieces whenever you need your fill, & why I don’t feel empty or guilty or used until after you pick up your clothes and ignore me for a couple months. Tell me why I keep falling for the same old shit when I know the story by now; you love me, you leave me, you love her, she loves him, so you love me until she acts like she loves you, you fuck me, you leave me. Repeat cycle. Repeat heartbreak. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. We’re a scratched vinyl, babe, priceless but damaged beyond repair, and we’ll keep saying the same things over and over until we die. Tell me why I can’t ever seem to learn my lesson.

a.v., tell me why (via spiritslyrics)
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  • 3 days ago
  • 39

I. It’s on a Saturday night when she told you
that a love like the one you used to have can
exist even beyond the ends of the cosmos.
Her lips were like the galaxies collapsing. Her
lips were like a promise bound to be fulfilled.
Her lips were like the stars in the night sky—
vibrant, burning, yet so distant to be even touched.

II. An endless entity, she told you, that would
only cease to exist if it chooses to. Love—oh how
vague of an idea it is that humanity have crafted
multiple definitions for it. Yet in a way, the
crashing sound of the letters of her name was more
than enough to fill the gaps between the lines of
every love poem written.

III. Once upon a time, there was hope in your eyes than can
illuminate even the darkest of alleys but now there’s
only despair howling in the drops of tears you shed.

IV. Once upon a time, you believed that something
boundless, something invisible, infinite, limitless, something
non-perceptible could really exist in this world we live in.
It’s Saturday today and nobody is across the table. You
are as lonely as the moon. Devoured by your own loneliness,
you ask yourself where her promises have gone now.

V. And in the silence, you hear her promises reverberate back
and forth the walls of your mind. Perhaps, this is what she meant
by having an endless entity; Love never really cease to exist,
it only flows through a different river. It only kisses a different pair
of lips. It sleeps in a different bed. But it never really ceases to exist.
It only calls another house its new home, and leaves its old address

Apeiron | (j.d.a)
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  • 3 days ago
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