lostinecho-blog

[lostinecho-blog]

It’s easy to feel uncared for when people aren’t able to communicate and connect with you in the way you need. And it’s so hard not to internalize that silence as a reflection on your worth. But the truth is that the way other people operate is not about you. Most people are so caught up in their own responsibilities, struggles, and anxiety that the thought of asking someone else how they’re doing doesn’t even cross their mind. They aren’t inherently bad or uncaring — they’re just busy and self-focused. And that’s okay. It’s not evidence of some fundamental failing on your part. It doesn’t make you unloveable or invisible. It just means that those people aren’t very good at looking beyond their own world. But the fact that you are — that despite the darkness you feel, you have the ability to share your love and light with others — is a strength. Your work isn’t to change who you are; it’s to find people who are able to give you the connection you need. Because despite what you feel, you are not too much. You are not too sensitive or too needy. You are thoughtful and empathetic. You are compassionate and kind. And with or without anyone’s acknowledgment or affection, you are enough.

Daniell Koepke (via icedcoffeegirl)

[lostinecho-blog]

"Remind you of the [girl] you failed to mention all along, cuz your actions have consequences and these are them." -the Starting Line// Surprise, Surprise

[lostinecho-blog]

Night Out

Unwelcome voices fall flat softening while they cascade deep into her pupils her large green eyes lose the sound of magic tumbling through each cycle before the laundry reaches its buzz

Melancholic words flow swiftly etching themselves on the wall cave-drawing memories and squiggled out lines burying the night in takeout boxes, stained lips, and smeared eyes.

[lostinecho-blog]

When I say girlhood I mean to bleach and bind and braid. I mean that soft gape-mouthed mirror face. I mean the slight, tight discomfort of hair scraped into a ponytail lifting the skin of the forehead. I mean pleasure-pain. I mean knowing how to hurt. I mean the fixed quality of attention bestowed by your best friend as she grips your chin to apply your lipstick, half-sensual half-ritual all hush, like communion. Sad as Sunday night television. I mean following those flow-charts in teen magazines that tell you which movie star you’re going to marry, looking for clues about the unknown quantity of yourself. I mean the sense of waiting for upheaval. I mean having an itchy soul. I mean girls are cruellest to themselves. I mean a fire in a dollhouse. 

[lostinecho-blog]

And I feel warm again :)

[lostinecho-blog]

Thunderstorms

Shiver my spine shaken by the cold frozen veins, iced over with pain needing your body to warm them And you the fire that cut through the black your flames, licking my eyes and helping them see whole bright days and bright nights the lovesick, the songs of yesterday; but temperatures collided complements no more as it began to pour then came the cries of thunder

[lostinecho-blog]

We're way too young to date and not love the heck out of it.

-Justyna

[lostinecho-blog]

Nyx

Grieve for the burnt out sun Swallowed by dark blankets Folding tighter and tighter Clutched into fists Praying to Nyx for release.

-Laura Carolynn

[lostinecho-blog]

Undone

empty spoons churn up dust another bland night falls blank like veils of worn promises that collect in dark corners where wall and shadow meet flowers start to wither constricted by the yellow crying out words of caution, letters splatter on the floor mixing splinter with thorn inkwells dry out crimson as jagged lines cut deeper than maw biting into flesh, life sucks air out of the old collapsing lung that screams: please, one last chance. please She looks at him painfully before signing her name. Divorced. -Laura Carolynn

[lostinecho-blog]

Hands

Your eyes are out of focus muffled laughter and tangled breath a cobalt look that aims to see the real beyond the reel  souls beyond electric feeling your gentle hand forgiving mine.

My eyes shift out of focus subtle glances and relaxed breath tension falling between arms tangible reality so fragile  afraid that it will rupture waiting for                 the                      break.

[lostinecho-blog]

Human

I may weep for the past, and stress in the present. But I do dream of the future.

[lostinecho-blog]

Ropes

Some things are only meant to exist      in linear dysfunction.      parallel universes can't be strung together      unless both ends refuse to fray,      refuse to be pulled apart for together      they are stronger. 

And some lovers are only meant to exist      in a singular context      the future exhales famous last words      with an expiry date unable to stretch its arms      beyond the unknown. 

And some girl finds herself standing       in between two lives      between who they were together      and who she is

she can't hold her end alone. 

- Laura Carolynn

[lostinecho-blog]

The Quiet Things that No One Ever Knows

Mystery woven into the intricacies of silent observation. Each word carefully placed in the interim between lips and sound the scratched surface of nails peeling back layers to find comfort

I want to learn you Learn to read the unspoken thoughts otherwise lost in anonymous self-reservation I want to know you to crack the code on your perception and whether you can relate to the inhibitions that chain me to the static of sound motionless

[lostinecho-blog]

Three-ply Thank You Notes on the back of a Napkin

thank you for making me realize that firsts don't win and that coveted trophies are far too brittle to withstand tarnished memories gone sour; that unaddressed letters of love might always remain folded in the pockets of your lungs like strangled signs of breath thank you for making me realize that closeness fades and turns empty, weeds pulled from the soil with bare hands that cannot grasp; knowing that no tree will ever grow up to grace the skylit green, mixed with the ambivalent tones of your smile thank you for making me realize that passion is real but restrained to darkened closets, slow and empty voids carved by gin and tonic culture; weakened veins that wilt into the coils of the past unless iron drops can reignite and puddle back to life thank you for making me realize the value of myself before my pen crumples the napkin that cannot erase these stains. -Laura Carolynn

[lostinecho-blog]

[lostinecho-blog]

You can’t turn love on and off like a light switch, no matter how hard you try. All you can do is wall it off, one brick at a time, until you’ve created an impenetrable fortress around your emotions. And once that fortress is built, you camouflage it so well that even you can’t see it anymore.

Katherine Allred (via mooneyedandglowing)

[lostinecho-blog]