at 1:41 AM on September / 19 / 2014
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at 1:41 AM on September / 19 / 2014
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The little things he says that make me smile


accidentally calls ur dad bae 

at 12:17 AM on September / 19 / 2014
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i feel u

or like i want to

at 12:17 AM on September / 19 / 2014
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when you hear somebody talking about one of your interests


at 12:17 AM on September / 19 / 2014
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google is great because you can ask something really obvious and nobody has to know

at 12:17 AM on September / 19 / 2014
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"I know it’s nothing that a plane ticket or car ride couldn’t fix, but god, you don’t understand it unless you’ve been in it, unless you’ve felt it. It’s that feeling that hits your chest when you two finally say goodnight after listening to each other’s voices for the past few hours, and you’ll wonder why every time you say goodnight it feels like a goodbye. It’s how even though you two just had a wonderful conversation your eyes start to fill up with tears because it’s a bittersweet feeling, because once they hang up you’re alone again. Not just physically, but mentally, emotionally. You’re alone. It’s how a good morning text stands in for a good morning kiss, and how a “what’re you doing?” replaces hand holding. It’s how you two can’t help but talk about how every moment will be spent when you’re finally together, how a kiss will be more than just a kiss, how a hug is something that will last hours instead of seconds, and how looking in each other’s eyes will be more like analyzing each little spec of dark brown in their iris. It’s how you know that once you get to touch their skin it will be like touching the moon, and each little freckle will be your star to wish on, only yours. It’s how you’ll discover new galaxies in their laugh, and how each little scar will be more than that, it will be a story you want to read, so you’ll trace your fingers across them like braille. You’ll think of all this, all day, every day, every moment, even when you two are lost in conversation, you’ll think of it. And that’s the thing that keeps you hanging on, that keeps you going. The promise that every time you see the moon, it’s one step closer to seeing them soon. So you’ll close your weary eyes, and dream of them in your arms. Once you awake there will be a message, “Good morning…” and shall your love be awakened again, to swim through oceans, travel over mountains."i.c. // a love separated (via delicatepoetry)

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at 12:16 AM on September / 19 / 2014
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my chopsticks know i’m white
at 12:16 AM on September / 19 / 2014
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Possible contender for headline of the year
at 12:15 AM on September / 19 / 2014
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Poets are so shady. We are never honest and even if we seem to be too honest and raw, we are not. We are selfish and egoistic. We only write about what hurts us. We write about our pain and suffering. Moreover, we blame it on lover after lover. You have already read that a thousand times before, the story of a how a person broke our heart and tricked our mind.

However, what we never write about is the hearts we break, and the pain we cause. I am not as innocent as I made myself seem in my poems, yes, I am in love with a fool and he breaks my heart every day. But sometimes I wonder if it is just karma hitting me repeatedly.

Oh, there has been a boy willing to set himself on fire for me but I handed him the matches and left… I never saw the beauty of him burning for me. And later on I’ve read about him in the paper, that he is not ashes anymore. Oh my God, there has been a boy I’ve let starving because I thought he already ate too much. I did not want to be another bittersweet revenge on his plate…. only to find out that he was honestly hungry for the love he thought I could give him. I read his cooking books, and he makes sweets for a lovely girl now. And oh, there was a boy with a broken heart but with strong hands that wanted to touch me. I thought I was too extravagant for his dirty soul, and so later on I found out he had mines of gold and diamonds.

I’ve hurt a lot of people. I’ve hurt them the way this boy is hurting me. And now I am screaming to God to forgive me. I’ve been so so ruthless with their good hearts. And I am down on my knees praying for the ghosts to stop hunting me every time I try to love him.

I Am A Poet And I Break Hearts For Art by Royla Asghar (via poems-of-madness)

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at 12:15 AM on September / 19 / 2014
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if I lie here

if I just lay here

I’ll probably fall asleep so leave me alone

at 12:15 AM on September / 19 / 2014
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