I want you..” She whispered, her voice catching in her throat. “I want you so bad. Not even in a sexual way, but I want you to look at me the way that I look at you. And though I’m not into simple compliments, I want you to touch my face and tell me that I’m pretty. I want the days where we lose ourselves between the sheets as I outline every vein on your body, because you are my map. You are my map to happiness, but to you I’m just a simple pitstop- a place where you refill your heart with my love until you have the strength to move on to your final destination, leaving me dry- empty. And, it’s hard because I’m always stuck between giving people everything and nothing, but then there’s you and you’re so much more than just a person. You’re my person, but I’m just a convenience, a blimp in the road. And, I just, I love you, and I thought that maybe you could love me, too. But, I should’ve known maybes were as temporary as I was to you.
—  she is me /// galaxies-are-amongst-her
It’s when you walk right beside me, you lay your eyes on me and tell me how pretty I am that I try to remember that it doesn’t mean we are suddenly an “us”. It’s when you smile at me and notice how red my cheeks are that I try to remember that you didn’t find me pretty enough. It’s when you sit next to me and make my day before it even starts that I try to forget that I’m desperately failing at not falling in love with you.
—  excerpt from a book i’ll never write #13
Jealousy is the most insidious feeling. Everything’s fine, and then, suddenly, it all crumbles down. You witness a look at someone else, a smile at someone else, a talk with someone else, and that’s when you feel it. It’s brutal. It’s violent. You weren’t expecting anything, and in a split second you feel something you never felt before. It’s in the guts; that’s where you feel it. It’s like a burn, like a needle stabbing you right in the stomach. The first time it happens, it’s surprising, because it’s a feeling you can never get from anything else. You’ve never felt like this before and you thought you were too old to ever experience a new feeling. But you’re not, and once you know how it feels, you would never wish that upon anyone. You stop breathing, everything around you disappears. All you can see, is him, the one you love, with that other girl. It’s innocent of course, they’re not doing anything, just talking. But it’s enough to terrify you. And the only moment you can breathe again, is when he’s finally asleep next to you at night, and you’re lying there wrapped up in his arms.
—  The joy of discovering jealousy
I’m a fan of long hours of talk. I can sit all day with someone talking about random things in life without checking and using my phone. Without any kind of distractions. We’ll talk about anything. I want to hear different perspective of people, about how they think or what’s their opinion about a certain topic. Having these kind of long and meaningful conversations makes me feel that I’m alive.
I like you.

I like how you curl your fists in your sleep,
Like you’re trying to hold onto your dreams with the strength of your grasp,
I like the way you curl up, all foetal,
And when you awaken, the smokiness of that rasp.

I like your feet, all ticklish on the insides,
And the half moon shapes of your nails,
I like you all covered in bubbles or seaweed,
Every bullet point of what loving you entails.

I like you in daggy aprons in the kitchen,
All pressed up behind me when I turn,
I like you lit up by my phone screen,
For the furrowed brow when you learn.

I like you briefcase in hand,
Dark and dashing and all things nice,
I like you in leather and skinnies,
With a tongue that’s all things spice.

I like the square shape of your teeth,
And the freckle on the curve of your hip,
Like the way you map out my mouth,
And the sweetness in the shallows of your lips.

I like jumper cuddles, your kittens,
And the rest in your breath on the cusp of sleep,
I like the weight of your hand on my waist,
And even that I’m in much too deep

I like your scrunched nose and lime green irises,
The way you take your coffee much too sweet,
I like your chest and the tone of your legs,
The way you lick at everything you eat.

I like you stubborn and too insistent,
I like you even when I can’t stand looking at your face,
I like you the way I’ve loved you,
Like every breath lives and dies with your embrace.

“I don’t believe in that crap,” he laughs, rolling onto his side to face me and propping himself up on an elbow.

“You don’t believe in constellations?” I ask, keeping my eyes fixated on the black sky above.

“Yeah. The stars are essentially billions of years away, and we assign shapes to them for no reason.” A chill races up my spine as wind moves the grass against my bare legs and arms.

“I think it’s beautiful. We’re trying to make sense of something. We try to find answers, knowing damn well that there aren’t any. We make up unfathomable stories and backgrounds because we want something to believe in. If everything is going wrong, we look up at the stars and find the meaning to our lives. Just because they’re miles and miles away doesn’t mean they can’t be impactful. That’s why I love you, isn’t it? You’re so far away, but I still love you. When I feel lonely, I come look out at the stars and remind myself that we are forged from stardust. We are part of those stars, those constellations, and therefore those stories. We are looking to believe in ourselves and sometimes we just have to be reminded of that.”

—  Excerpt from a book I’ll never write
You came to us
Flowers in your hair
There are clouds of smoke hanging from your lungs
This wildfire is a mess
This home is nothing to you any longer
The undoing of your own self is unnerving
The mercy of a sudden hit is strangely familiar
These eyes watch you still
The motions in which you don’t take part of
These are what they question most
Pearls line your ears and your neck
There is red on you lips and you wipe it away at once
Only some get to see you bleed
Those few are not here and you don’t waste time about it
Cry wolf
See where that gets you here
All they can hear is the crashing of the trees
Behind them is a gush of mighty waves ten feet high times two
They only see the gold buried in this sand
Not all can bare the weight of looking back
Heartbreak knows it’s way in your heart as it beats
There is thunder outside and you only think of the light
This is the kind of love that you can hear in things that scare
This is the kind that people like you can swallow whole
This is what makes us different somehow
“Dangerous,” they call you, “and dressed in pink”.
—  l.c.