honestly, you’re just not listening anymore. i’m trying to tell you how i feel, telling you to stop, but you’re taking my words and flinging them away, blithely leaping over and around them, determined not to hear. you laugh and call us cute, that you like annoying us because it makes you feel important that we care enough to ask you to stop but it’s starting to be too much and i’m sick, i’m sick, i’m sick of your whining, baby voice slicing through my ears. this time the threats aren’t sarcastic, and i would literally punch you if i didn’t love you. maybe these words sound familiar, because i’ve told you them in person several times. but you’re not registering them and they’re just syllables floating across space. the mere fact that i keep repeating myself is making my words lose any power they used to have and it’s so frustrating. just.. listen to me, please.
grow up.
We met in the skeleton of an unfinished home. Face-to-face, we were so close I could see a raindrop tremble on an eyelash and then he blinked and the raindrop broke and then all I could see were the flecks in his green eyes, the tiny gold sparks that whispered of secrets and desires. Those eyes flitted from my eyes to my beaming lips, traveling the same, short path as each second amplified the delicious anticipation.
The inches between us seemed suddenly too much and I closed that distance, tracing the outline of his lips with mine. The rain pounded into the ground, into our skulls, and into our clothes, soaking us through, yet it was impossible to feel the cold when there was this inferno blazing through us
(Source: miss-disconnected, via vodkashotsandtubetops)
too late.
that love that i didn’t believe was real.
that love that i took for granted.
that love that i thought would last forever..
i want it back.
please come back..
(via troubled)
She’s the queen of winter with a crown of ice, oh yes, a crown of ice, to match the cold that’s crept into her heart and around it, locking it in a cage of crystal and indifference. She hardened that heart until her emotions froze over, stuck in limbo and waiting to be thawed. But thawing doesn’t work without heat, without passion. And it’s been so long, will she even react? But fire has a way of forcing reaction and memories of that kind of heat aren’t easily repressed or forgotten. Dim recollections of a failed love call out from the far reaches of her heart, and in a dark, distant corner, the magma of that love shifts heavily in its seat, lethargic after years of neglect.
But before it can spark, the ice swoops down again, drugging dangerous memories and keeping the queen alert and aloof, reminding her that love is a weakness and that she must never fall for those sweet lullaby lies again.
(Source: 0verwhelm, via gossamertruths)
I got tired of waiting, so I told you to meet me tomorrow.
I don’t know why I was so scared of everyone teasing, I should have known it was all in good fun.
Why did I run away? Was I embarrassed even then?
The importance I place on the opinions of of others is too much, too high, and I’m tired of paying the price.
When I finally found her, I said nothing, and merely allowed gravity to slowly draw me down until my eyes were level with her striking grey ones. After a heartbeat, she turned away. Curled up with her arms around her knees, she looked like she was trying to hold herself together. My heart reached out to her but my arms stayed resolutely at my sides. We sat across from each other in silence, in that old, forgotten room. The musty air was thick with floating dust- the forlorn ghosts of happy times long gone. As I watched her delicate shoulders rise and fall with every breath, I couldn’t help hoping that I would be the one to help her unleash the happiness that she’d locked away years ago. My eyes followed the slender, downward slope of her shoulders to the faded scars that striped her arms and silently screamed of pain and suffering. Their faintness reassured me that my efforts were working.
She glanced up at me again from under that heavy canopy of lashes, her full lips parted ever so slightly to reveal the endearing crookedness of her two front teeth. Everything about her was charming to me. All the efforts to push me away were nothing, I couldn’t keep away from this silent, sullen girl who had the power to spark both protectiveness and lust with the same sharp glance. She wasn’t classically beautiful; she had her flaws. But she’d caught me from the first moment I’d seen her and never let me go..
The first time I saw her was from a distance. She was bowed over a ;aldkga;df, with her tousled hair partially tamed in a braid that hung over her left shoulder. Her white v-neck was stained with grease or dirt, something dark, and her jean jacket was outdated. We made eye contact, and she only uttered one word, “fuck,” before she turned and sprinted away from me. It had been the starkest, most wonderful contrast of vulgarity and beauty that I’d ever seen.
She shocked me from my reminiscing when her words cracked the silence: “too late.” Then she got up, swiped up that same denim jacket off the floor next to her, and was out the door, padding swiftly down the stairs before I had even registered her words. After attempting to puzzle out the meaning of that dishearteningly diminutive phrase, precious seconds had gone by and I cursed myself for not moving faster. She was a runner, whereas I had never been an athlete, not unless you counted giving my little sister piggyback rides as a sport. I sprang up but even as I thudded heavily down the stairs, I knew I had already lost her. I cracked open the front door of the abandoned house to face an appropriately cloudy day and searched for a sign of which direction she might have taken. There was none.
I wondered if I would ever see her again.
(Source: n-a-i-v-e-t-y, via lilacsnhoney)
I gazed into the smiling eyes that reflected the fresh, gleaming green of the grass under my heels and I believed that summer would never end and that paradise could stretch out over years. As we lay there in the sun, on a faded old blanket that was really too small for the both of us, I smiled when he took my hand and rubbed his thumb along the back of mine. In those last, carefree moments, I thought happiness could last forever.
I should have known better. Nothing good lasts forever.
(via gossamertruths)
