Jar of Thoughts

kvtes:

sitting in the urgent care waiting room while my friend is getting checked out, watching the storm clouds roll in, and trying not to cry over the tenderness i’m seeing in the two people sitting across from me. a mama and her son (somewhere around twelve years old) are sitting on a couch, the boy curled up into his mama’s nook. she’s rubbing his back and anytime he shifts around, she kisses the top of his head. he whispers something to her while keeping his eyes closed and she pulls him tighter, gently rocking back and forth.

thankful for mamas who love so gently and that he isn’t shy about needing her.

via kvtes
"I hope
we both find ourselves
this summer
and I hope
the roads lead us back
to each other."
Ming D. LiuA Story A Day #158 (via mingdliu)
via librariesandcoffee · originally by mingdliu

do you ever cry because jay mcguiness?

via obriers · originally by twthings
"

Places where my love is still breathing:

The cracks in the spine of your back. Like the spines of over-read books that I’d spend hours and hours languishing. The grip I’d hold onto those hard bound and paper-back covers, as I swim inside the words. The ink- stains and the smell of comfort within them.

The lines of your palms and the veins on your wrists and arms. Like a long winding river, I’d trail adoringly as you sleep. The purple lines pulsing wonder in every breath you let out. The stories, nicotine, whiskey and black ink within those veins: ingredients to the enigmatic nomad that you are.

The hazel swirls of your green eyes. Like a quagmire disguised as a gentle meadow. I sink into the very depth that you have. But you are too boundless. It’s exhausting gravitating into your world. Grasping whatever I can, even though my feeble mind is drowning.


The scent of green apples and lime. Like grids of your territory. The very insignia of my downfall. In my sheets, in my sofa, in my pillows, in my shirts, even my skin. Like stations to a road map. And at the end of the treacherous road ahead, is you. My glorious lonely mountain, with its head up high in the heavens but its body is half-eaten on the ground. I cringe and sigh on the smell of it. And yet, I keep four apples on my table stand.


The infinity tattoo you inked on my slashed wrist. The sweetness of pretending. The white knight shielding a troubled damsel in a forest fire. You were my Polaris. In a never-ending dark waters of the lonesome ocean. You were guiding me. But in the midst of your light, you also showed me a different side of darkness. An emptiness that I can’t avoid. Looking at the stars, never seem the same ever again. Nor was every words I read, never enough to quench the hole inside my soul.


The month of September. The month I first met you and the very month I lost you, four years later. I hate Autumn. You were all the colors falling in the ground. Fiery red and Sunset yellow. Your wandering soul and the optimism you exuded, all fragments on the ground. Like feathers of a phoenix. But I was a griffin. I could never be as majestic or as brave as you are. We were both attracted to the fire. But the fire served differently in both of us. You, thrived on it gloriously. While I, kept it inside me, fueling me but never pushed me to do what I needed to do. I needed the burn, but never the mark.


The memories in monochrome. Like our favorite classics playing on cheap motel televisions. The softness of black and white. The contrast of simplicity and irony. This is us. Or maybe just me. Stuck in a kaleidoscope of a frozen time. Repeating every minute of my life without you, until you come back and pick up the broken pieces of who I was.

These are the places where my love is still breathing—well, barely breathing, that is.

"
I wrote an obituary for my battered heart. - s.p.  (via mystrangesilhouettes)
via scatteredatsea · originally by mystrangesilhouettes

snarkysourwolf:

rampantrogue:

This is the most depressing post ever.

WHY WOULD YOU MAKE THIS POST?!

via thecatwomantohisbatman · originally by seaquell

acutelesbian:

Honestly I think the cutest thing anyone can do for me in a relationship is telling me songs, books, movies, quotes, etc that remind them of me because that is the ultimate admission of affection. It’s beautiful when people can unapologetically admit that they find pieces of you in every thing that they experience.

via emissarydeatons · originally by acutelesbian

scottsmccall:

 via (x)

via allya-savestheday · originally by hummely
Open Letter to Anyone Who Hasn’t Quite Fallen in Love Yet

writingsforwinter:

I hope you will love like weathervanes, spinning until you find True North in the middle of every storm; I hope you love like apocalypses, like the rain elopes with the ground.

I hope you will fall in love without mercy, without apologizing for the way love weakens your knees, fall in love without atonement, fall in love so deeply you won’t be able to tell the difference between your own skin and someone else’s. I hope you’ll fall in love in public, without being confined to only showing affection in private.

I hope you’ll fall in love with someone whose only crime is wanting to dust your entire body with their fingerprints like a suspect before being led into a jail cell, with someone who gives you not one chance, but all the chances you deserve. I hope you’ll fall in love with someone who makes your immune system pray for its own immune system just so it wouldn’t have to feel quite so lovesick.

I hope you will love like the moon: so full and wide that everything else seems small in comparison; I hope you love like wolves, hungry and snarling and howling for blood. I hope you love like witch’s brew, like a hurricane building in the southern-most corner of your tired, aching, beautiful body.

I hope you will fall in love feet-first, then follow up with the rest of your body, sliding slowly in until your heart comes to rest at some place it can finally call home. Home like a window without doors, home like a carousel where every stop contains another universe, home like a toothache in the gums.

I hope you’ll fall in love with someone who sobs tears that are more sugar than salt, so you’ll learn that love is supposed to be sweet and not bitter. I hope you’ll fall in love with someone who never wants to say anyone else’s name but yours. First, middle, last, and all. I hope you’ll fall in love with someone whose tongue is a sounding board for your echo, who kisses you like they think the wind is reflected in your sigh.

I hope you will love like tire tracks: fiercely and without stopping, with a trail to mark every new destination. I hope you will love like telephone wires spy on the conversations that cross their humming bodies, like forest fires and like moths sometimes burn themselves to death just to reach what they assume to be the saving sun.

I hope you will fall in love as many times as you need. I hope you will fall in love with the way your bones automatically align themselves to fit someone else’s spine, the way your wrist and elbow joints gradually curve to meet the parabolic shape of someone else’s body held inside your arms. I hope you fall in love with the way someone else can still love you with their back turned; I hope you fall in love the same way a car goes into reverse, with a brief moment of panic before the slow catch and release.

I hope you’ll fall in love with someone who would rather be alone with you than the alone kind of alone, with someone who won’t play toss with every volley of your heart, but instead catch and hold, hold, hold. With someone who whispers I love you like it’s a sin but enjoys every moment of potential hell, with someone who kisses the roof of your mouth like they’ll leave a secret inside the rafter of every tooth that will blow out when their mouth leaves a hurricane inside yours.

I hope you fall in love like there’s no other choice.

via the1001cranes · originally by bjhunnicutts

bethrevis:

Some books I love because they make me think. 

Some books I love because they make me feel. 

But the very, very, very best and the very, very, very rarest books are the ones that do both.

via bethrevis