wheresecretswerekept - Tumblr blog

[wheresecretswerekept]

I don’t only sleep with sorrow. Sometimes I cuddle with it.

[wheresecretswerekept]

I miss falling in love with someone's blog.

[wheresecretswerekept]

[wheresecretswerekept]

Why do people constantly miss someone who doesn't even care about them?

[wheresecretswerekept]

Poisoned Ink by Emmerson Grin

[wheresecretswerekept]

Them: Are you a girl or a boy??

Me: I'm a witch

Them: But what's in your pants?

Me: Magic

[wheresecretswerekept]

[wheresecretswerekept]

They asked why I could never let them in. They told me my walls were too high, too thick to break down. I told them I had reasons. Maybe 1. You don’t have the key, 2. You knocked in the wrong way, 3. You were in a bad time, 4. You shrugged off and left, and maybe, just maybe, 5. You didn’t even bother to knock. 

[wheresecretswerekept]

What do you think about when you hear the word sex? For most, I bet it’s the moaning. The golden lining of waists and hips being mined for the first time. For some, it might be the kissing. Their lips softer than the nights before. Their lips rougher than the nails gripped into your back like #2 pencils finding comfort in old manual sharpeners versus new electronic ones. You have to work for it, right? Some soft, some rough. Some sweet good morning, some angry after an argument. Some with laughter, some after tears. The sweating that gives you the thought “is this mine or is it hers?” What is the best part about sex? I bet most would say, the orgasm. It is not. Far from it. I.) The build up, the foreplay, & the tension. The selfish and selfless teasing. The lowkey this is exciting smile. The faces losing control of all expression. The bodies soft movements between hands gently moving to where it doesn’t belong to where you want them. II.) The aftermath, the cuddle & the nap. The wave of euphoric desires long passed and you’ll sleep as teaspoons and sugar cubes. Simmering in a new cup of tea; warm and added milk. Your relaxed bodies stirring the feelings of home, safety and your favorite song, your bodies at rest and them in your arms; all mixed into a warm cup of tea composed of wet bedsheets and not knowing whose arm is whose and whose leg was hanging off the bed because it was way too hot and sweaty under the blanket. You see, the act of sex. The in between. The hair grabbing. The scratched backs. The chest needing attention. The necks because we’re vampires. The hands not knowing where to feel next. The tug of war motion. The cramps from running marathons while laying down. The sweat from jogging a bridge in the middle of winter because the fan is on, but it sure feels like summer even if your windows are open and the rain covers the sounds of passion. The sweat is confusion and peace finding a home on top of your skin. The giggles because they made a cute mistake and it’s one you could live with. It’s one that was needed from your long day. The tears if you’re a first timer. The warmth of how bodies join together; your body’s way of holding hands. Your innocence shaking hands and hugging sin for minutes and lasting up to four hours for some; or the whole day. However your drive goes. It’s different for everyone, women to men, women to women, & men to men. It matters not. The middle part is not the best. It is a blur. It is the bottle not the liquor. It is the pill and not the chemicals inside. It is the lamp and not the light provided. It is the candle and not the scent given off. It is the blue line of college rule paper, but not the words written by a writer. It is crucial, but it is also the part where most get lost in. I know I did. Have you? They call it lust. The misplacement of trust and the lack of communication. The longing for skin more than that person’s heart. It’s more than reaching down their pants or failing to unhook her bra because you could never wrap your head around the mechanics of such a wonderful invention. I know some men might read this and go; god, this guy is soft. Aight, go ask her right now. Go. Ask her to name the best part. It wasn’t how your tongue could spell the alphabet backwards, okay that’s pretty dope, but she’ll always put foreplay and cuddling above it. Well, unless she’s a freak, but I’m sure they love the embracing parts too. Who doesn’t want to feel safe after being that open? That vulnerable? That honest? To truly share yourself with someone from heart, mind, soul and body; If you can make them feel safe afterwards, the orgasms will only be a minor detail to this perfect painting they call making love. I promise.

Sex, cuddling and never unhooking bras, correctly. // k.c. (via poetryleftbyher)

[wheresecretswerekept]

Let me tell you a story. I was never the girl that boys wrote love songs for never the girl that had the world yoyoed around her fingers, never the girl that spent midnights on the beach with red plastic cups in her hands I was the girl that spent recess on the swings, my palms stretched around chains that locked me to the earth and swung me to the stars I was the girl that hid behind four corners of a novel because words have always been more patience than people I was the girl that held the superpower of invisibility behind the cloak of indifference On my yearbook, they would write: “You rock, don’t ever change.” But how do you listen when you stare at your reflection in mirrors and only see a paper crane falling apart at the seams? I told myself what no one else would tell me, I said, “Your body is made of ivory bridges beneath the pavement of skin, You are the causeway to every destination where you go and what you do is entirely up to you.” I said, “If you don’t like the route you’re taking, the car you’re driving, the world you’re in, you can change it. If you don’t like you, you can change it. You want to be a writer, so let this life be your work of art. You are the poet and the poem, the conductor and the orchestra. Write your life like you would read it. Remember that every line within you can be crossed out, every noun not needed, every adjective all wrong. Throw yourself down unexpected roads, turn right when you want to go left. Remember that it’s okay to take more than one route, it’s okay to be more than one genre. You’re allowed to sit down on park benches reading Bukowski at midnight and stand up listening to Kayne. You’re allowed to always wear black when your favorite color is pink. You’re allowed to be a sonnet and also a country song.“ I told the girl filled with self-hate, “It’s okay, this is only the first draft.”

Kelsey Danielle, “First Draft” (via pigmenting)

[wheresecretswerekept]

I miss who I was before I met you. Every time I napped in your arms I left a part of my heart next to your lips on the pillow. Every time I woke up next to you I gave a part of my soul to the sunshine across your cheeks. Trying to remember who I was before you ever came into my life is trying to crawl into the skin of a stranger on the street, is trying to break into a home that is not my own to steal their belongings, is trying to become best friends with a person I have long since stopped talking to. I miss the person I was before I ever held your hands against my throat. I miss the person I was before I ever let your pulse beat against the scars on my body. I miss the person who never met you - because they would never have to miss you like I do.

I Hope You Never Read This (K.P.K)

[wheresecretswerekept]

And you don't? :D anon blogger ka rin naman ah :P although I wasn't privileged to know your name / to meet you. Pero still, I enjoyed our anon conversations.

I've posted some pictures of myself back then. 5x I guess. But I like it better being anon so I deleted them. Can you use your account now so I don't have to post our conversation on the dashboard? Pretty please. :)

[wheresecretswerekept]

Someday he’ll miss me more than I miss him. Someday he’ll love me more than I love him. Someday I’ll have the best love story that will beat any love story ever written in history. But what if someday never comes?

[wheresecretswerekept]

Of course I do. I even make it a point to greet you Merry Christmas and Happy New Year - on anon. hahaha.

Why do you hide yourself with that faceless-face? 😁

[wheresecretswerekept]

Somewhat. Actually we've communicated exclusively thru anon. :P

Really? And you still remember me? Eh di wow. :D

[wheresecretswerekept]

You really log in once a month. Haha where can I get to talk to you more? XD

I always check tumblr now. I just read all the writings on my dashboard, though. :) Do I know you, anon? Were you one of my friends, like 3 years ago, when I was still an active blogger? Lol.

[wheresecretswerekept]

Hey, how are you? :)

Hey there, anon. I'm okay. I'm going to be okay. Thanks for asking.