(via pen-chant)


Growing up I thought being in love was red roses, dates on Saturday nights, pretty jewelry, Friday night movie premiers, kisses in the rain, and boxes that held expensive things. I thought true love was a story with a picture perfect ending. Now that I’m older I’ve realized it’s not that at all. True love isn’t something you find in a Disney movie. Being in love is screaming at 5 AM till you cry out of anger, but knowing they won’t leave. It’s saving each other’s selfies, good or bad, just to look at them because you miss each other. It’s being comfortable enough to talk about anything. It’s saying all the wrong things at the wrong moments. It’s leaving someone in complete control of your heart, but trusting them not to break you. It’s screaming the lyrics to your favorite songs together. It’s honesty even when it hurts and sarcasm when they’re sad. It’s lame jokes and sleepless nights. It’s fights and make up sex. It’s hour long showers and breakfast in the morning. It’s all night phone calls instead of texting. It’s the small things. It’s coffee shop dates and finding new books to read. It’s holding hands and kissing ever so passionately. It’s being able to sit at home just basking in the presence of someone you love with every fiber of your being. It’s wanting to share every moment with that one person. It’s finding yourself awake at 3 AM craving them asleep next to you. It’s little nick names and making fun of each other. It’s being called things like ‘little shit’ or ‘baby’ or ‘love of my life.’ It’s being able to fall asleep knowing that person will still be there in the morning. It’s being apart and knowing nothing will change. It’s deep talks at 6 AM. It’s days full of laughter and tears. It’s capturing the world’s beauty though their eyes. It’s not about the sex or the gifts, it’s about finding someone who pours their love into your deepest cracks making you whole once again. It’s feeling part of you missing when you’re apart. It’s finally being able to love yourself even half as much as that person loves you. Love is the only thing left in the world worth fighting for. Don’t you dare settle for a boy who makes you feel good for a night, or a girl who boosts your ego at a party. Mindfucking love is the holy grail of all love. Being in love will fuck you up in more ways than you can imagine and it’s absolutely fucking heart-wrenching, but at the same time it’s the most beautiful thing in the world.
3AM Thoughts" series #4 (via olivia-ross)

(via je-ne-suis-que-moi)


2wentysixletters:

train observations #1: details

a young girl’s fingertips dance along the windowsill // an elderly lady with skin like water ripples and a small gold ring on the middle finger of her right hand // middle-aged lady holding a transport for london card holder // a man with a buzz cut in a blue shirt who can’t stop glancing around every thirty seconds or so


This is what silence sounds like:
Muffled cries and your heart
thumping against your rib cage.
A tap dripping.
Waves against the shore.
Your lungs keeping you alive
exhaling clouds on to my skin to create
goosebumps.
When you lift seashell up to your ear
it’s not the sound of the ocean you’re hearing.
It’s the echoes of the inside
of your mind.
This is what silence looks like:
Heartbreak.
You disappearing before me and
the whole world stopping to look for you.
Your palm against mine
our fault lines grazing against each other.
A silhouette against a white wall.
Secrets hidden within myself.
Anything that is half way through falling.
May it be a rain drop from a cloud
a leaf leaving it’s nest
a young girl falling down the rabbit hole
for the very first time.
A.Y // this is silence (via 2wentysixletters)

(via 2wentysixletters)


(via bunsaipon)



(via pen-chant)


Rare Words

rosettes:

acosmist - One who believes that nothing exists
paralian - A person who lives near the sea
aureate - Pertaining to the fancy or flowery words used by poets 
dwale - To wander about deliriously
sabaism - The worship of stars
dysphoria - An unwell feeling
aubade - A love song which is sung at dawn
eumoirous - Happiness due to being honest and wholesome
mimp - To speak in a prissy manner, usually with pursed lips

(via thegirlwiththeredbow)



5weetsorrow:

Sad/Bands/B&W blog

5weetsorrow:

Sad/Bands/B&W blog

(via he-made-me-insecure)



1. You eat regret for breakfast.
Wash it down with a cup of coffee, two sugars.
It sits heavy in your stomach like the
stones you used to skip across the lake in the summer
with the boy who made you realise how
important chemistry is.
Skin on skin
creating sparks of electricity.
Enough to light up a Christmas tree,
a home made for two,
an entire street,
your eyes.

2. You spent the whole of tenth grade chemistry
trying to figure out how this could be.
You held hands with your lab partner for
one minute to see if you could replicate that
moment of current in your veins.
You’d brush shoulders with strangers,
kiss boys underneath the stairs
but it was never enough to create
goosebumps on your skin.

3. The lunch lady serves you regret for lunch
and she looks at you like she knows.
The pebbles from breakfast still sit
in your stomach so you only eat half of it.
The other half finds home in the trash can.
The stones are heavy.
The stones are piling up.
The stones are sinking you to the bottom of the lake.

4. The lake where you first felt
goosebumps on your heart and he kept it warm
in the inner pocket of his jacket.
He held it as if it would crumble.
By the body of water that had a bed of drowning rocks
he kissed you as if death was lurking behind him.
You dropped all your pebbles and
filled your fists with his shirt instead.
You emptied your mind and
filled it with the colour of his eyes instead.

5. Three years ago
you both swallowed pills of empty promises
and walked away from the lake, from each other.
A road trip of silence back to a home that
reeked of memories that didn’t involve each other.
That same year, the lake dried up
and all that was left was a pile of rocks
covered in fingerprints that would
all lead back to you and him.

6. This morning he wakes up and
searches for the jacket he wore that
particular summer.
He finds it shoved behind football boots and gym bags.
All that is left is a gum wrapper and remnants of a pebble.
He puts the jacket back.
He walks into the kitchen.
He pours himself a bowl of stale cereal.
He eats regret for breakfast, too.
A.Y // nothing fills you up like regret does (via 2wentysixletters)

(via 2wentysixletters)


2wentysixletters:

Typewriter Series #112

2wentysixletters:

Typewriter Series #112


2wentysixletters:

Typewriter Series #113

2wentysixletters:

Typewriter Series #113


(via pen-chant)