no one warns little girls how boys with such pretty eyes, who smell like smoke, who taste like rain, who talk like silver, are reasons behind tear soaked pillows, half finished poems, and so many sad dreams.
Don't wanna be here? Send us removal request.
Statistics
We looked inside some of the posts by leeconyer0417-blog and here's what we found interesting.
Average Info
Notes Per Post
60K
Likes Per Post
36K
Reblog Per Post
24K
Reply Per Post
99
Time Between Posts
6 days
Number of Posts By Type
Photo
10
Text
3
Quote
4
Last Seen Tumblr Blogs
Fun Fact
Kazakhstan’s Minister of Communications and Informatics has blocked the Tumblr site because it contained 60 sites of terrorism, extremism, and pornography in 2015.
Photo
not everyone deserves your forgiveness
296 notes
·
View notes
Text
You said even when I’m with someone else I’m yours But I lay awake at night and wonder Why even when you’re with me you aren’t mine Two lovers fight for power in a seesaw of drunken promises We will never be on the same level So why do we keep trying?
-(a.e.) // back again
3K notes
·
View notes
Quote
you will never be good enough for everyone. luckily, all you have to be is good enough for you.
(via the-sleepy-poet)
5K notes
·
View notes
Text
After a long hard day, I look at the sunset with a cup of coffee in my hands and I feel peace.
The moment I get intoxicated by overwhelming thoughts and I go outside to feel the wind getting into my lungs, I feel peace.
When I see my mother smiling and laughing in despite of it all, I feel peace.
And I believe that’s what it is, it’s the balance of the good and the bad in exquisite harmony.
— Rose O.
596 notes
·
View notes
Text
I haven’t seen you in years Unless you count your smile softly melting the walls of my dreams each night Dripping memories down each cheek
Or your whisper trailing my mind with love I have not since heard in song I drive by our first kiss and feel you Breathlessly giving away the moment you had imagined for years
Sometimes I even read you in the flickering light of your candle Transferring truths through pages But you see me through a screen lit by lies of happiness
My love, you are the only man who has seen my love become light My lips have touched skilled souls But none have touched mine since you showed me its purpose
I hope you know these things And if not, I pray you feel them
-(a.e.) // old love
927 notes
·
View notes
Quote
You’re the one I want to go on late night drives with while holding hands and singing along to the radio, to drive to the middle of no where and look up at the stars while in each other’s arms, the one to kiss at red lights, the one to hold tightly in my arms, the one to go to coffeehouses with while having tired eyes, the one to be mine while I am yours.
(via spilledheart)
15K notes
·
View notes
Quote
Watch how he treats waiters and speaks to his sister and acts when you win your third round of spit. Does he untangle Christmas lights with care? Fuck this. Hold that. Make sure you listen. When you’re late –overtired and dead in the eyes– watch him. Does he draw you close and talk you into slow dancing around your shoebox bedroom? Tell him a joke and wait for his lungs to bleed laughter. If they don’t, you should leave. Or stay and watch him cook dinner and fold laundry. Flip pancakes. Touch your underwear and sigh. Oh! Kids and dogs, too. Puppies, preferably. These are good indicators. Does he dip low to greet them? Small things might scare him, and if they do, you should leave. Or don’t. Or tiptoe around him until the tension erupts. Storm Warning. Code Red. Listen to him sing in the shower. Billy Joel. Elton John. Elvis, but only around Christmas time. Forgive, but don’t forget. And fuck. All the time. Don’t ever call it making love. That's idiotic, and you know it. Do it in your childhood bed after your parents fall asleep. Just once and only for the adrenalin. A quickie. A never have I ever completed. Afterwards, tell him about the time you lost your virginity to James Nelson in the backseat of his mom’s mini van. Tell him you think you were too young, but mean you wish you could take it back, and let him see you bare for a moment. Let him kiss you hard like he’s trying to tell you something, but don’t make any assumptions. He could be too drunk, after all. He’s always too drunk. Have the kids talk, the marriage talk, the my side of the bed talk. If you survive all of this, you should stay. Unless you say, “We need to talk,” and he squirms. This is cruel, but ultimately effective. Or maybe try, “I love you.” This, I warn you, is even crueler. When he says it back, ask why, and listen as he hands you pebble after pebble of ego. Don’t be fooled. You can still leave. That’s still an option. Clothes thrown haphazardly into a suitcase- his or yours, you honestly can’t remember. You say you want more, and he asks of what. It’s ok not to know, but even if you do know, don’t you dare clue him in. For once in your life play hard to get. Watch him watch you half-way through the threshold of something brand new. Does he cry? Not now, necessarily, just ever. If he didn’t cry when you watched The Titanic, you should leave. Unless he’s crying now. Which he is. Holy shit. Unpack your bag slowly, sock by sock, and let yourself wonder if you’re making the right decision. Let your heart break a little for the other side of the coin. Does he care about people? Not just you, but people. Humanity. Peace on earth. But then, okay, does he care about you? Enough, I mean. Does he care about you enough? He’s here now, and he says your name like a prayer, like a curse, like a thing he thought he’d lost in the fire. And then he’s mad as hell. Wait for him to clench his fists and practice patience. Push his buttons if you like, but don’t expect him to play nice. Sleep on the couch, just for a night, and hold on tight when he carries you back to your bed, his bed, in the middle of the night. Don’t bring it up in the morning. He’ll just blame it on your sleepwalking, and that’ll spark another fight about nothing. And by nothing I mean everything. Watch him pour your coffee a week later and add two sugars and a cream, just how you like it. Does he still pray under his breath right before bed? Listen to the way he says, “Amen,” and compare it to the way he traces your brow when he thinks you’re still asleep. He’s too proud to act that way in front of his parents. Or anyone else, for that matter. Look through his drawers, top to bottom, and swallow the thrill that arises when you find the crumpled love note you once left on his desk at the job that he quit last year. Remember the way he used to call you darling. Mourn for a moment, only a moment, the way he used to be. And watch him that night, stroking the cat you couldn’t leave at the shelter, and let yourself wonder what life might be like without him. If the answer scares you or excites you or makes you tuck your feet up under your legs, stop. Breathe. He’s staring at you, waiting for answers. Scoot a little closer. You know what to do.
on falling in love and falling apart (via yourhandwrittenletter)
5K notes
·
View notes
Quote
It takes time to work on not being alone. You have to call a friend. You have to take a shower and eat breakfast with your mom. You have to put in the effort to feel loved and be loved by the people around you. Passiveness leads to loneliness. Be active and spread your sadness to the people you trust your feelings with. Be understood. And be okay.
Juansen Dizon, It Takes Time (via theprocast)
3K notes
·
View notes