timiya-writes

[timiya-writes]

anne carson

richard siken

[timiya-writes]

[timiya-writes]

oh honey, that’s so sad. so sad that you woke up thinking you were back home, back safe. so sad, but don’t you know? you’ll never go back there and you’ll never be okay again

[timiya-writes]

I had a dream of us, two piles of flesh stiched together, floating above it all. You held me in your embrace, tender and sweet, but in an instant we came crashing down. It seems reality will always be the heaviest burden on our aching chests.

[timiya-writes]

baby! i look at you and my heart remembers the time when my atoms were a mossy log, all ray of sun. you make me remember a summer i never had. feel like a future where we live with our rescue dogs and greenhouses. make you more flower crowns. when i dance with you it feels easy, one-two-three. like kitchens are ballrooms.

i been lookin for ways to tell you i miss you but they always seem so silly. the glow of your eyes puts a sun in my spine. hearing you laugh is a meadow i never want to stop running in. i want to spend all my time finding ways to fill up your life. you’re warm cookies. good coffee at sunrise. a book and soft socks and rain on the rooftop. 

[timiya-writes]

[timiya-writes]

If you’re over 25 and haven’t done something remarkable, you are hunted down and killed. Some people invent things. Some make cures for diseases. Others become established members of their community. You’re pushing 30, and somehow not dead yet, even though you cant think of a single thing you’ve done thats remarkable in any way. Why aren’t you dead?

[timiya-writes]

nothing like old friends, cuz you can’t make old friends

old friends - ben rector

[timiya-writes]

“some people just make your life worth living.” you’re sitting on the floor again downing beers and cleaning the blood off of your thighs. it’s not right to say, you know. how you could ever think somebody else could always be the moon when the darkness lives inside of you. how dark your life lit up when nobody was home. how many split ends you had to go through to learn what fullness feels like and the way you confuse fullness with home.

when you’re alone all that’s left is the chains around your neck. do you ever wish for once they’d be strong enough to keep you in. do you ever wish for once you could know what it’s like to be dead. do you ever wish for once you wouldn’t confuse this pain with it.

some people just make your life worth living. some people are the reason i’m still here. some people are the reason i rot like a flesh wound. some people feel like veins flowing like a river. it’s the contribution and dehumanization of people that make or ruin this.

you touch me and it doesn’t feel the same. when you’re so used to your feelings not mattering you really start to believe it. i don’t know how to make someone else feel how it feels to feel worthless if they’ve never felt it. i wish i could scream that it feels like this.

one scar for each way we don’t get each other in the way i once thought we would. some people you can wear your heart on your sleeve with and they’ll still say they didn’t know you had a heart. a scar for not special. a scar for not important. a scar for every time your life became a barrier you had to break through.

people don’t like thinking like me. people don’t like different. like maybe because someone else wouldn’t feel the way i’m feeling that means i shouldn’t be feeling it. maybe if i were anyone else i wouldn’t still be collapsing over this. maybe i love harder than anyone you’ve ever met. maybe i just have a more difficult time showing it.

“here i am, this is it.” i’m here. sitting on the carpet. i’m not always the person other people are pleased with. i don’t need to put on a show. i just need to let go. but the truth is it’s so lonely to be on your own.

[timiya-writes]

another lifetime/nao

[timiya-writes]

u got through everything u didnt think u were strong enough for

[timiya-writes]

[timiya-writes]

marry me. let’s spend our week nights eating cereal on the floor when there is a perfectly fine table behind us. we can go to the movies and sit in the back row just to make out like kids falling in love for the first time. marry me. we’ll paint the rooms of our house and get more paint on us than the walls. we can hold hands and go to parties we end up ditching to drink wine out of the bottle in the bathtub. marry me. and slow dance with me in our bedroom with an unmade bed and candles on the nightstand. let me love you forever. marry me.

slow mornings drinking coffee naked in bed and your hands on my face when you kiss me goodnight. marry me. d.a.h (via whisperingbones)

[timiya-writes]

“I never hated him. God, I tried, but I never did. I never could. I hated what he did to us. I hated that he fell out of love with me. I hated that he wouldn’t talk things through. I hated that he gave up. I hated so many things, but I’ve never hated him. I love him too much to hate him, no matter how much he hurts me.”

(via state-of-grace13)

[timiya-writes]

Don’t you ever shy away from something because you love it too much. I don’t care if it’s a person, or a passion, or a dream. We’re too afraid of our own hearts these days, too worried that we might wreck ourselves. But we were never born to hide from the things that could make us the happiest. So take the job, kiss the girl, pour your heart out. Make mistakes, big mistakes, and live so fully that you know what it feels like to be in pain. To be in love. To be anything at all.

(via yourhandwrittenletter)

[timiya-writes]

Have you dated anyone since?“ She asked abruptly. “No, have you?” She began to pick at the end of her yellow sweater. “There was this football guy. His name’s Andrew.” He took a drag from his cigarette and exhaled into the open air. “How’d that turn out for you?” “Only lasted a couple weeks. He said it wasn’t my fault but his,” she laughed, “He probably found my movie talks annoying or something.” “Sounds like a prick.” She nodded in agreement. “So what about you?” He threw his cigarette on the ground, using his boot to extinguish it. “What about me?” He felt her gaze on him. “Why haven’t you dated anyone since?” His eyes met hers, all the memories he tried to forget flooding back to him once more. He remembered the times he discovered spare hair ties and clips on his bedroom floor and how she could ramble on about how bad the weather was. He turned away and faced the pavement in front of them. “Wouldn’t feel the same.

d.d (via rottingdaisies)

[timiya-writes]

There are a few things in life so beautiful they hurt: swimming in the ocean while it rains, reading alone in empty libraries, the sea of stars that appear when you’re miles away from the neon lights of the city, bars after 2am, walking in the wilderness, all the phases of the moon, the things we do not know about the universe, and you.

Beau Taplin || and you (via perrfectly)