Coin Operated Girl
Her mind lives in a quiet room,A narrow room, and tall,
With pretty lamps to quench the gloom
And mottoes on the wall.
There all the things are waxen neat
And set in decorous lines;
And there are posies, round and sweet,
And little, straightened vines.
Her mind lives tidily, apart
From cold and noise and pain,
And bolts the door against her heart,
Out wailing in the rain.
"How do I start this day,
I who am unsure
of how my life has happened
or how to proceed
amid this warm and steady sweetness?"
Albert Garcia, from “August Morning” (via the-final-sentence)
I seek the freedom that truth will bestow upon me.
When you think you’ve lost all rhyme and reason, think of me. I will find you, I promise.
Curse in my bones.
I think that some people call it by a sacred name, cradle, treasure, and let it flourish underneath their care. They thrive in its existence. Instead, I fear it. I think love is, in most forms, such a strong likeness to fear that I cannot separate the two. I cannot say to love, ‘Consume me,’ without a sickly angst crawling up my spine. I feel weak when I love, but when I suppress the act, this choice, to love, I fear the echo of the chamber within me. I wonder if others empathize with this strange pattern. It so often pleads with me, pulling me up and dragging me back under. Into kindness, into resistance. Into trust, into caution. Closer to you, and further away. Like a game of tug of war, the weighing heave of each side. Hovering in the middle, my bones begin to ache.
I’m jobless, lonely, homesick, and nearly broke. Tempted to book a flight.
"You can’t, in most things, get what you want if you want it too desperately: anyway, you can’t get the best out of it. ‘Now! Let’s have a real good talk’ reduces everyone to silence. ‘I must get a good sleep tonight’ ushers in hours of wakefulness. Delicious drinks are wasted on a really ravenous thirst. It is similarly the very intensity of the longing that draws the iron curtain."
C.S. Lewis ‘A Grief Observed.’
"
Like ships in the night
You keep passing me by
We’re just wasting time
Trying to prove who’s right
And if it all goes crashing into the sea
If it’s just you and me
Trying to find the light
And I’m gonna find my way
Back to your side
Mat Kearney ‘Young Love’
(Source: trumps)
White Flag.
Have you ever felt the spark within you, seep right out from underneath your skin? Crawling from your body, escaping the warmth of life. A flare disappearing in the night, lost among the planets, stars, and galaxies. I reckon you discover, in that instant, whether you’re a fighter, a blatant survivor. Or whether you fall into submission, resigning, allowing the darkness to grasp your being and lug you off into space.
I’m the one who surrenders.
I’m trying to determine whether I’m satisfied with this feat.
Raging Sea
The dawning of a sickly shame, of inflicting pain upon the wholesome and defenseless. I could never dream of the heartache I would inflict. Anchors, I must escape, the ones dragging me under, into the salty depth of the oceans frightful roar. They’re so heavy laden, and I’m full of justification.
I’m writing this because I need to remember it, imprint it onto my mind, in this moment, hours from now, and for the rest of my life.
The breach of trust, the betrayal persisting in your olive eyes. Your crumpled face, the way you fell away. The discomfort and throbbing of my entire body, the instant neuralgia, and angst. A minute. Sixty seconds. And my orbit is disrupted, my moon burnt out, boundless by the chains of time, out of direction, into a foreign place. I thought of you, walking away, I wished you would. I prayed you would not. But I needed you to, because I couldn’t look you in the eyes and realize you were the martyr to our skewed and muffled love. Or more so to my shortfalls, my misconstrue.
You always give me that which I don’t deserve. Let them throw out false accusations, but the truth is: You never run away, you always stay. Why do you stay? What do you see underneath my skin other then this terminal disorientation? I lay on my back and I wonder how I’d ever gotten this fortunate, to have captured such a beautiful, compassionate, and forbearing soul.
So I remember this moment, I taste it on the tip of my tongue, feel the sting in my eyes, the quiver on my lips. Of the moment I almost lost you, and in that, almost lost myself, out in a raging sea. I hold onto it. Even though it tears through my skin, I become stronger, potent, even. And somehow the most unnerving detail, is my resolve to run before the storm had any chance to unwind.
Love on the rocks ;)
"He really was beautiful. I know boys aren’t supposed to be, but he was."
John Green, The Fault in Our Stars (via faeriepetals)
(Source: cac0ethes)
(Source: lovepixies)
