love will write the words

You changed my life in so many ways; You gave me a reason to live, you filled my emptiness and replaced it with so many good things that no one else could’ve wished for. I cannot wish myself anyone better than you. You have made the previous things in my life mean nothing compared to what you have given me. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I still feel that way every single day even if we are arguing with each other from time to time, because I know the truth deep down in my heart. I will always take care of you, look after you and always be there for you through everything.
—  Poets Love Her
I won’t open up 
like a perfectly painted flower
when you first touch me.
That’s because I’ve survived 
hurricanes that have tried 
to destroy me.
Instead of fields of daises 
you’ll just find small buds 
slowly blooming
inside me.
—  darling you might have to wait a while before you catch my scent 🌺 // a.hagar

anonymous asked:

What if Harry and Draco had been together for a while and one of them had to go away for a while and they are on the phone and then one of them says "turn around" and there they are!!! Did this make any sense

Draco hated muggle devices.

He hated the ridiculously loud telly vision, he abhorred everything that had to do with the terrifying things called vacuum cleaners, and telly phones were no different.

They were small to hold, blindingly bright and too loud for Draco’s taste.

(That, and they didn’t exactly look pretty.)

(Yes, Harry did buy him a silver one, which was fine, but still.)

He never understood muggle devices, either. He just let Harry deal with that stuff, watching his boyfriend wave around with a duster, apparently persistent on using the stuff he’d grown up with rather than using his wand. 

(Harry had always been stubborn, after all. It’s why Draco had fallen for him in the first place. Well, that, and of course his magnificent arse.) 

The only times he liked to use phones was when his boyfriend - his stupidly successful and famous boyfriend - was out on a mission for work, unable to use magic to avoid getting his location known. Because then they could call, Draco standing in the dark of his bedroom, trying to keep his voice even and far from worried (Harry away on a mission always made him go crazy, but Harry didn’t need to know that.) Because then they could talk and talk and talk, Draco helping Harry to stay awake and focused, ending up falling asleep with each other’s breathing in their ears, a calming reminder that the other was still there, still alive.

Draco was standing in their bedroom right now, the blasted muggle device against his ear, Harry’s voice rumbling through the speaker.

And Draco was trying hard not to cry. 

(Harry had been gone for almost two weeks now, and it didn’t seem as if the mission would be done very soon. He knew Harry’s job was important, he knew that the ‘bad guys’ needed to get caught, but goddamnit couldn’t the criminals give his poor boyfriend a break? Give him a break? He needed his boyfriend, he needed to hold his hand, he needed to kiss him until his lips were swollen and almost painful.)

“I miss you,” Draco whispered, not quite succeeding in keeping his voice even.

“I miss you too,” Harry murmured back, soft but not any less sincere. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

Draco snorted - half a laugh, half a sob. “You better, you prick. I need someone to make a mess of the kitchen, it’s almost scary how clean it is nowadays.”

Harry laughed, and something twisted in Draco’s chest.

“I need someone to never turn off the light when they leave the room,” Draco continued, wanting to hear that laugh again and again and again - “I need someone to forget to close the fridge, I need someone who always leaves their glasses on their nightstand.”

“Someone to yell at you when you use up all the hot water again,” Harry chipped in, and Draco scoffed.

“As if you’ve never heard of warming spells, Potter.” When Harry didn’t answer, Draco sighed. “Just… Come back, alright? It’s boring here without your annoying face.”

“Hey, Draco,” Harry suddenly said, his voice sounding a bit off, “could you turn around?”

“Why would I -”

“Just do it.”

Half thinking his boyfriend had gone mad, Draco turned on his heels. 

And promptly dropped his phone.

The loud crack it made when it connected with the floor didn’t bother Draco in the slightest - because oh, Harry was standing there, a stupid grin on his face and his eyebrows knitted together, ridiculously cute, his hair standing in every possible direction and holding his phone against his ear - such a unexpected sight that Draco had difficulty finding his breath.

“Uh, hi,” Harry said, waving sheepishly. “Surprise?”

Harry,” he breathed, and he didn’t wait for Harry to say something - and jumped towards him, kissing him full on the mouth, his hands immediately in Harry’s hair, tugging at the strands so hard it must’ve been painful but he didn’t care because Harry was with him, Harry was home - 

Harry’s phone dropped to the floor, too, when he automatically wrapped his arms around a crying Draco.

They didn’t care much about that phone, either. 

my heart has been set free from the cage it was previously locked in and my god, let me tell you, walking away from what destroyed you, feels so good. see, it took so long. so much valiant effort. so much pain. the cage was stained red with my blood. i tried to shrink myself down, fit through the lock, squeeze my way out. i tried everything possible and it never worked. i would rattle the bars until my hands were numb, id scream and beg for help and gave up when my voice left me along with my happiness. until one day i sang the song my heart had been dying to sing for so long. the truth. and it set me free. i expressed how i felt, i screamed about my heartbreak, i felt the pain, i cried it all out. and the cage is no longer restraining, but merely a fading image of what i once was confined in. i am free to fly now. and i have flown so far away that happiness comes far easier to me now and it feel so good. letting go feels so damn good.

i know he feels like a safety net
always there to catch you
but darling, safety nets do not
have huge holes in the middle
safety nets cannot be always burning
safety nets should not tear
apart at the smallest of pokes
safety nets do not give
you an illusion of safety
safety nets cannot be safety blankets
they cannot come with a tag saying
safety not guaranteed
they need to catch you when you fall
they need to keep you safe

We traded our hearts in between the ridges of the pages of a book. Our hands were on fire where they were connected to each other as we exchanged our burning hearts. And when we placed them in each others chest, the fire spread down to our toes in a hazy rush. Afterwards, we could hear our hearts beating through the flesh to the same rhythm as their counterparts. And so, with our eyes closed and ears wide open, we took turns getting lost in the steady thrum of our hearts.

A few kisses and I swallowed your soul and let it flow through my veins. For a moment we were one and the same, but then I let it out from the tips of my fingers. And it drifted through the air - beautiful and broken - touching skin and bones; igniting them from within. And the imprints of your touch shone like little suns, escaping from the surface and lighting everything all around, and suddenly, the world was a beacon of light, and it was wonderful and at that moment, I didn’t mind being alive.

You watched, as one after the other, the stars died; their actual light fading from them as an artificial one took their place. You don’t tell them (me) that their lights were sacrificed to grant the wishes of the greedy and desperate. You didn’t say that that’s how you kill a star. You didn’t speak of the sadness you felt as your brothers and sisters disappeared one after the other - it makes my heart ache for the loneliness embedded in your soul - until only you remained; a single flame within this cold, dark world. You smiled - countless tales of melancholy warping the edges of your lips - and told me that you’ll grant me any wish I desire and I grinned - mouth full of pleasure and teeth sharpened with bliss - because I had a secret you didn’t know. I tilt my head up and kiss you and make my wish.

You are a fire that I harbor within my bones. Your presence is strongest in the stark white of my rib cage which envelopes your heart in my chest. Sometimes, I still feel your soul in my bloodstream - little specks like dust motes flying to your own rhythm. When I cut myself - paper cuts frequent my fingers - the blood that flows out glitters like sunspots and I know that it is you that I see. They call me crazy when I tell them that there are stars in the sky; they don’t believe in what they can’t see, you see. Sometimes, it makes me cry because I see you - I’ve always seen you, I will always see you - and they can’t. It makes me almost believe that they are right. Almost. But I miss you. And I’ve felt you - loved you - too clearly - too dearly - to think you an illusion. I feel your heart beat in my chest everyday and I reaffirm your existence with every thump that drums out. I am alive. You are alive.

I find Neverland in your eyes. We are surrounded by all that is gone, dead. There is no light here except yours; I do not need any light that is not yours. We remain unchanged and undisturbed while encompassed in the nothing for centuries and I don’t find that disconcerting at all. Sometimes, I think I even prefer this to before - before we got here, before when you existed within me and not beside me. Your brothers and sisters are here with us but their lights are still out. But we can feel their presence as easily as they can feel ours. Here, you are happy without abandon. Your light twinkles and titters like a mellowed out version of fireworks. You remind me of a child. I love you like this. I think I will love you whichever, however, whenever. I want to stay here forever even though I know that cannot be. But I do not fret, because I know that when I wake again, I will wake alone, without any knowledge of your existence, but knowing that I will always find Neverland in your eyes. And somehow, that’s enough.

—  when you swallow a star // oscarsins
But there’s still a tiny hint of fear within me, because if you started loving me out of the blue, there might come a day when you’ll stop loving me out of the blue as well
—  Out of the blue

To what do I scream at night; to whom?

Brother, sister, father, mother – !

Lover – !

Relieve me – !
in this eternal search of convalescence,
where I am haunted by my coruscation;
burnt by sparks unleashed far
beyond my imagination.

Help me through this time of grievance.

What are you but an effigy of the past,
I ask, what are you but

What compels your soul to challenge
and torture my mind’s eye perpetually?

Will you allow me to love you for all time,
even if such means I will die awaiting;
if such means death is the end,
with no further prospect of
second chances?

- M.A. Tempels © 2017

If I Wrote a Love Letter

If I wrote a love letter, it would tell you how much I love you. It would say how I love you to be around, to be there for me. It would say how much I like the way you look, your smell, your eyes, your hair. But it would also talk about how I love to hug you. How I love the way you feel when I hold you really close. How your whispers to me can turn me on. When you say my name, or call me baby, really low, to where it’s only me, in the whole world, only me, I get to hear it. I fuckin’ love that. How I love to spoon with you, just spoon because we fit so well together. How when I’m on top of you the sweat sparkles, and girl you look good wet like that. My letter would say I miss you, even if it’s only been an hour apart. I’d write that my life changed forever when we met, and I ain’t giving it back. It’s my life now. Forever. I’d say your kiss is what I look most forward to. Lots of kisses. I’d tell you my truck isn’t fast enough to get me there, but I’m tryin’! It would have the part in it about you make my life worth living, and I want to love you forever. And ever. It would say all that, maybe more.

…….but, would you read it?

I kid myself by thinking if I saw you I could continue breathing; you’ll always be my first love, even if we were never together and even though you knew little about it. I will always love you and always be in love with you and I need to face the fact that when I do fall in love again, I’m going to look for you in that person; at least the version of you I’ve created in my heart.
—  MJG // I don’t know if this is a step forward or a step backward.

The morning after you collapsed
You can’t quite fit back into your skin.
Like that pair of jeans
You often wear for a week straight
Almost daring others to look at you
And notice you. To see you.
You pick them up
And you go to slip into them
But you can’t. They don’t feel any tighter,
You haven’t put on any weight.
It just feels like the material
Won’t stretch around to accommodate
your shape. It doesn’t recognise it
Almost as if
it’d never met you before.
It’s your pair of jeans, it’s your skin
But it won’t let you in.
You left
And now you’re standing on the outside
Uselessly clutching it in your hand,
The barest you’ve ever felt.

The afternoon after you fell
You just can’t rid
of the feeling of helplessness in your hands
As if you know you’d drop
They’d put on them
You’d just watch it fall to the floor
Blaming it all on the selfish gravity
While you know
It is your listless fingers
And how they piteously shook
And sobbed
Begging to be relieved from the strain
Of holding you up in front of them
Of trying to make you seem
Less terrified than you were

The evening after you drowned
Water is still all you can feel
It is under the soil of your wet boots
Your damp scarf
Your humid hair
And there is no pattern
In the graceful descent
Of the droplets down the window
That is tortuous enough
To distract you from
How violently the thought hits you
Tonight, you’re not just
Impregnated in rain.
You are just like it.
An unexpected nuisance,
just another thing for people
To deal with on their way home.
No one is going to die because of you
But many will wish you would’ve just
Not happened
This is the way you now see
In which the world would be better
Had you not been part of it
Not with the self-importance of kings
Who know they’ve invaded countries
And dispersed families
But in how most people wish that mosquitos
Wouldn’t exist in the summer

The night after you crawled back to the shore
You did not stop to look at anyone
You did not want
To see their eyes looking at you
Void of any recognition,
And compassion.
No, you walk straight back inside
Making sure every door is locked behind you.

And you swallow the key
Locking yourself up from the inside
So as to never be opened again.

—  M.B, Steely Lock
Written In Blood

I’ve got ink in my veins

poetry pulsing through my heart

and my eyes hold every poem

you’ve ever written

I’ve donated so much blood

written in the words of my poetry

and you don’t even know

that it’s about you

I’ve injected memories of us

straight into my vessels

like an addiction

I can’t entirely quit

I’ve carved lines on my wrists

and watched the ink seep out

to relieve me of the pain

I hold onto so dearly

I’ve spilled my emotions

licked my inkly wounds

and emptied countless vials

yet my words go unheard