darling, i'm drunk

❝ I loved her, atom by atom, one burning cell at a time. ❞
Kami Garcia, Beautiful Darkness (via sad-plath)
❝ If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this: We all want everything to be okay. We don’t even wish so much for fantastic or marvelous or outstanding. We will happily settle for okay, because most of the time, okay is enough. ❞
Tell me where it hurts, she’d say. Stop howling. Just calm down and show me where.

But some people can’t tell where it hurts. They can’t calm down. They can’t ever stop howling. ❞
Margaret Atwood, The Blind Assassin (via lucreza)

drunk!poetry // r.i.d

It happened slowly,
but we finally
decided that happiness
is the part of the
movie where everything tragic happens
but everyone moves on anyway.
So meet me underneath the same sky
that bled with your heart
once you realized no one was coming
back for you after all,
and let’s look for the stars that stayed.
I’ll name them after the moment
I found you.

My robin song,
my springtime siren.

I’ll love you until I forget how to.
And then I’ll fall like my knees aren’t already bruised
from doing it,
and I’ll remember why you’re
worth the ache.

Y.Z, the honey hums to me (via rustyvoices)

his name is made of stars,
and though the floorboards
of this tortured home
look like rotting teeth
and the scratches on the walls
match the ones that never heal on your chest,
a criss cross of wounds
that are your reminders,
(that he traces over your shirt
when he thinks you aren’t paying attention_
the soft sounds of his footsteps
makes the dim light
a little easier to bear.

the sounds he leaves behind
surround you
long after he is gone.

they tell you
in a tiny lecture hall-
in a place where no one will remember
the grey boy with his stone heart and wolf smile-
that long after a star dies
you will see its light
because the world does not move
at the same pace we do
and distances are much greater
than we perceive.

when you are curled under a tree
with death on your heels
congealed like the blood on your hands
you look up and wonder
if you are feeling the light of a star
that died long ago.

"the punk who wore his scars like statements won’t stop tugging on your heartstrings" — b. i. simek (via henrymaarchbanks)

// oh lovely goddess //

❝ I love those mornings when you wake to darkness and no one is asking anything of you. You’re under no pressure to exist. This is something of which I am in constant need. ❞
C.R.   (via thatkindofwoman)

Tonight you’re thinking of cities under crowns
of snow and I stare at you like I’m looking through a window,
counting birds.

You wanted happiness, I can’t blame you for that,
and maybe a mouth sounds idiotic when it blathers on about joy
but tell me
you love this, tell me you’re not miserable.

Richard Siken, Seaside Improvisation  (via punksokka)
❝ Here is my hand, my heart,
my throat, my wrist. Here are the illuminated
cities at the center of me, and here is the center
of me, which is a lake, which is a well that we
can drink from, but I can’t go through with it.
I just don’t want to die anymore. ❞
Richard Siken, Saying Your Names (via themaraudersaredead)