Cold As You

Falling In Love Is Like Falling Asleep Because I'm Holding On To Something That Isn't Mine To Keep


It’s just you, me and gravity
Pulling and pushing against forces
Falling and rising, only to fall once more
Someone once said that the key to heaven
Unlocks the gate to hell
And i don’t know which one I’m about to open
And ironically, neither do you
Because you get the constellations confused
And you tell me how most of the stars are actually dead
And I think that makes me love them more
The solar system is inked to my skin
To remind me of lost time and wide open space
And space… You’ve got too much and I haven’t got enough
I’m thirsting for the Milky Way and uncharted stars
And the idea that without gravity
I wouldn’t be the lesser of you and me

I wanted to be your first love just as much as I wanted to be your last, and that fucked me up more than anything.

No Man’s Land (k.p.k)

(via flawsmakethingsinteresting)

we split apart, halved and quartered ourselves into smithereens and mosaics of something that was less like love, and more like salt.

—Writingsforwinter (via wildebeastcupcake)

(via writingsforwinter)


The first time you told me you loved me
I just whispered ‘I’m sorry’
The way you trace my freckles into constellations
Only left me wanting to watch the sky on Lake Michigan
And streak it into shooting stars for wishing
And when I lay my head on your chest
The ocean tickles my ear as the waves crash in every heartbeat
And if I close my eyes, I can smell the salty beach
The veins in my body run like railway tracks and back roads
They swerve through cities and ghost towns getting lost and found
The tips of my toes dance in Italy to foreign music
And my fingertips travel over rubble and rocks and sand
I have dust under my nails from Germany to Mexico
In the winter, I smudge hearts onto Jack Frost’s window art
Because I always make sure I leave a part of mine behind
When we watched the sunset last week
I was watching it in four other countries too
It all began just after I outgrew my diapers
My dad told stories of places I couldn’t even imagine
And in one over excited gasp, his wanderlust got trapped in my lungs
And I set out to exhale all the points on my map
And now, you tell me I’m your Drops of Jupiter
As you sit at the edge of my bed
Watching me pack for another goodbye
Because you’re in love with a girl
Who’s in love with the world
And you know you can’t make me stay

Small Talk

I’m not interested in the small talk
I want you to tell me about your biggest fears
What makes you hide under the covers
And who you turn to when the covers aren’t enough
Tell me about the first time your mother slammed the door
And the first time your father raised his voice too high
The way your heart quickened and stomach clenched
Or how your sang to your little sister to keep her calm
Or the way your little brother used to say your name
When he ran to your bed to avoid the monsters under his
Tell me about your first kiss
And the kiss that felt like the real first kiss
Tell me why you’re insecure
Tell me who hung all the stars in your sky
Tell me why you love like a house on fire
Why your eyes hold so much light
Tell me who gave you that light
Tell me you’re stubborn like your mother
Tell me you’re warrior like your father
Tell me you’re a glass house when the sun sets
Tell me how to pick up your pieces when you shatter
And please tell me why you continue to open your arms
When all you get are bruises and broken bones
Tell me how to save you from yourself
Show me your scars and tell me the stories
Tell me everything you hide from yourself
Tell me all your silly little wonders
Tell me all your secrets
Tell me all your fears
Tell me please
Because I’m not interested in the small talk
I’m interested in you

Do not try to be pretty. You weren’t meant to be pretty; you were meant to burn down the earth and graffiti the sky. Don’t let anyone ever simplify you to just “pretty.”

Things I Wish My Mother Had Taught Me, d.a.s   (via iridicat)

(via kendrakinsley)

We are all ordinary. We are all boring. We are all spectacular. We are all shy. We are all bold. We are all heroes. We are all helpless. It just depends on the day.

—Brad Meltzer (via rauchwolken)

(Source: splitterherzen, via writingsforwinter)

What I know is this: our hearts are stubborn creatures. They always remember how to push a splinter out like a foreign enemy from the body. They want to heal. Even if we didn’t know there was an injury. Even if we loved that splinter like a limb.

—(via uprootedthings)

(via langleav)