Stardustt-child - Those Stars Man

This is a poem about how you never get the kiss you want when you want it; how time twines around your neck, its thorns digging into your skin so you can never forget how clinging to a string of hope, threading it between your spine, and having it unravel before you in the span of an hour is worse than any metaphor about nakedness that you poets will ever write. This is my reflection in the mirror. This stanza is the small gap where my fingers try to touch against the glass. You can’t even possess yourself; let alone the person you see standing before you. The moon hasn’t come back from the cleaners yet and I have nothing to slip into tonight that makes my reflection feel beautiful. Time is falling through the hole in my pocket. January is coming soon, and I have a feeling that he’s never going to fall out of love with this December. He’ll still write her love letters. He’ll send her white orchids on every lonely holiday and pretend that love is a place you can cross state lines to get back to, but it’s that time of the year again, and calendar sales keep reminding us all that we can never get back to where we once wanted so bad to lose ourselves in for good.

It Took Time (Shinji Moon)

we believe that love, no matter what, will save us. i don’t know if that’s beautiful, or foolish.

painonpaper (via wnq-writers)

I just wanted your fucking love.

six word story // oilpill (via just-six)

he never messed up, my dream

I wanna make that boy fall in love with his smile

it’s 4:27 in the evening. it’s not a romantic time at all. the sun isn’t setting. nobody is going home to bed yet. nobody is waking up alone. it’s 4:27 and you’re on an express elevator going down and you feel the force of gravity as if it was sluicing up between your toes and without meaning to, as your stomach drops, you think of him. you think of roller coasters. you think of kissing him while both of your mouths are sticky with ice cream. you think of holding his hand in the back of a dark car, playing with his fingers for no other reason than to feel his skin brush yours. you think of cotton candy, of a burst of laughter, of the curve of his neck. you think of sighing against his shoulder, of his head resting on your lap, of city walks. the girl on the elevator with you asks, “are you okay?” you say you’re fine. “just got vertigo,” you explain. that feeling when you’re staring into a canyon and for a second, you know nothing is the same.

falling // r.i.d (via inkskinned)

i look at you and i don’t want to admit that what we were has died somewhere, in between missed messages and long pauses and brief kisses. i want to go back to where we were happy and honeymooning, our fingers always so in awe of each other’s bodies, our mouths hungry, endlessly searching for ways to make the other person happy. i hate knowing it all adds up to nothing. that we can be in love but in the end we’re two people who are walking towards different highways. i tell you i think we’re crumbling but we both avert our eyes. it’s not polite to stare at tragedy. i kiss you and keep a countdown and know you’re here but you’re already leaving.