I don’t regret opening my heart up. It’s nice to know it’s possible.
I just wish he would stop being a victim of his past and realize I’m not those girls that hurt him.
I can’t heal him.
It’s boring waiting for someone to let you in. I’m tired of words and intentions. I want a life.
Deep breath. I love you. I’m moving on.
I wish you well!
Do you know how much you’re capable of?
if you did, you’d probably do more with you life.
.a hot bath is a poor substitute.
thispartofmylifeiscalledwriting:
so is chocolate.
and late night television.
or even clean sheets.i dont care how strong that drink was
or how loud the music goes.
they all are not you.
next to me.
so warm.i cant decide which is worse - if its the falling asleep or waking up.
its just strange these days.
because im used to it.
and i hate it.
I barely knew you. You picked me up, a real chivalrous type. Wine an dine, the usual. Netflix was a calling and we answered. I could tell I made you nervous, but there was no denying I felt the same. From the first sensation to the last, you had me in flames. And when you went away I was left buzzing until you touched me again. The whole thing’s a blur really, I still ask myself if it really happened. If I really let myself lose control. The answers yes. You devoured every inch of me. And I let you. The rest really isn’t important, it wasn’t perfect. But what is in life? I realize now that I will probably never see or hear from you again, and I’m OK with that. That’s the whole meaning behind it anyway. But for just a second there in all that mess, it was nice to have someone to fill the void. The longing for someone. And maybe for just a millisecond to feel even the slightest bit loved.
Submitted by tessalynne19 .
tears. and tense muscles. and wanting to roar with all of the fire that is in my heart, but upon opening my mouth, i find it is empty, save for the sour taste of dried spit and disappointment.
It is the middle of the night; my carnal appetite wakes me as it soaks itself through the lace of my panties. And you, you touch your relaxed lips to mine with your eyes barely open, sleepy hands wandering into dark crevices of the night. My exhausted body pulls you inside and we move to the rhythm of our subconscious. Morning comes and we awake not remembering whether we were only dreaming of making love.
I cannot let go of this.
Submitted by whenwemet.
via reneelilley
While listening to this.
I look fairly grotesque.
