December 2010
66 posts
home tomorrow
it’s a little bit strange that home isn’t a birthright for us. that sometimes we have to hold our tongues and swallow too much wine at once to be in the places we have to be for another day. and it’s a little bit strange to even think about not being able to understand who we are, and how in love we are, why people with the best intentions think the most appropriate reaction is...
2 tags
calvin-rufus:
I would like to dedicate this song...
without hope or agenda: a spiritual journey,...
carmenrios:
here is to love and to trying to find it. here is to joy and trying to chase it. here is to peace, inside and outside. here is to hope, and how even when it devastates us we come back for more.
here is to falling in love over and over. here is to blue eyes and knotty hair. here is to airports and hurting. here is to fucking and sleeping in. here is to and empty pockets and crying on...
I fight
because I fell in love, because I would do anything to protect her magical mind and her magical hands and her magical eyes and her magical heart.
WHY DO YOU FIGHT?
Watchlikethewine:
kategrube:
you remind me of a train ride, train ride, train ride across the european countryside
you remind me of the morning, the morning, because the teakettle whistles for you
when you hold somebody tight and breathe along to their heart beat
I often worry if I let you go one of us would die
and I realize
that’s what love is supposed to feel like
the way we live now
This is familiar. The way my breath sounds now and the fact that it’s just after 2am and how my heart is fast and slow and the way that I want everyone sitting here. The way that I always, always want you sitting here. The way it’s spilling out and the way I’ve always liked things that were someone else’s before they were mine. The cigarettes I bummed when I was 12 and...
the sorting room of the thrift shop
is freezing. really freezing. but it’s a nice change from my car that still reeks of weed and diner food, and from New Jersey highways and basements filled with cheap beer and people who’s names I barely remember. It is a place for black coffee and cigarettes and I miss these old things that were never mine in the same way that I miss your hands and your mouth and the curve of your...
National Airport
it was just those two seconds and I couldn’t let go and I kept pulling you back and I wanted to pull you back under the covers in your bed and stay and stay and stay
and my heart hasn’t really slowed down since then and I’m two seconds from crying but I don’t think it’s because I’m sad anymore because it feels so full. it was just those two seconds when my...
