hipster poem

You’re giving up on me,” he mutters accusingly.
“Don’t do this,” she replies lowly. 
“Do what? Get upset?” his voice rises with each question, “Well I am upset! You said you would never-”
“You didn’t give me any other choice!” She screeched back. They both fell silent, if you listened you could hear their hearts crumbling. “You’ve pushed me away too much and now the only place left to go is the exit.
—  Stories I Will Never Tell #29//L.J.W.
Somewhere inside me it’s always raining. Not a harsh rain or tears from dreams, just gentle rain with mist in the air and the sound of it hitting windows and umbrellas. The air distorting the lights to make everything soft and the world is quiet. You could call it my happy place, but you’d be wrong. It’s just a place, a place where I could go to sit and have coffee and watch the world, maybe even wait for someone to show up and hold my hand.
—  I’m hopelessly romantic