you were a mistake
not the way you kissed me
or the dates you planned weeks in advance
not the way your eyes lit up when you saw me
or the knee-slapping laughs we shared
it was not a mistake
that I fell in love with you
or that you told me ‘forever’
the mistake was that
I listened
and I truly thought you’d stay.
—  Leigh, day 255
I want to get you out of my head, I do. But you’re my drug and I’m addicted to you. Your laugh is the smoke. Your smile is the taste. And your dimples are my high.
—  Classy

I see her next to me in a king-sized bed.

A king-sized bed in a white room with floor to ceiling windows.

A king-sized bed in a white room with floor to ceiling windows that we always leave open.

A king-sized bed in a white room with floor to ceiling windows that we always leave open, and the curtains billow like curious ghosts.

A king-sized bed in a white room with floor to ceiling windows that we always leave open, and the curtains billow like curious ghosts, and on the wind is the smell of honeysuckle.

A king-sized bed in a white room with floor to ceiling windows that we always leave open, and the curtains billow like curious ghosts, and on the wind is the smell of honeysuckle, and and on her skin is the smell of a dozen white irises.

And when I taste her, she tastes like strawberry jam.

And when I taste her, she tastes like dandelion milk.

And when I taste her, I really taste her, and I don’t brush my teeth before bed that night.

—  @oceanwriting, “I See Her Next to Me”
You are never ready to say goodbye no matter how many times you try to convince yourself.
—  Tenari Ioapo
What inspires me? People. Straight teeth. Crooked teeth. Gray eyes, brown eyes, blue eyes, long eyelashes and short ones, thick eyebrows and thin ones, short hair and long hair, blond hair and red hair, small hands and big feet, memories and dreams and everything in between. Music. Songs of destruction, of falling apart, of staying strong through the bad times and rejoicing in the good ones. Voices so high they bring you into heaven, notes so low they strike a chord in your soul. Love. The pure love of friends as they hug and laugh and play with each other’s hair, the fortitude of the love of two people who have memorized the feel of their partner’s hands in their own and who have memorized the taste of their partner’s lips on their skin. The cosmos. The stars swirling above our heads in a never ending pool of darkness and if we stare long enough, we’ll be looking at something we’re not even sure exists anymore, the soft oranges of the sun setting over a horizon and bringing an end to something, the majesty of the navy blues and midnight purples that exist, suspended among space and time, somewhere in the universe. Nature. The cry of the wolf, the hunt of the lion, the croak of the toad while it rains and rains and rains, the cats sitting on their owners laps and the loyal dogs waiting at the door for reasons unknown, the slow growth of the cherry blossom tree, the smell of petrichor and moist earth.
—  an excerpt from a book i’ll never write #237 // there’s a lot that inspires me