“I should have told you this is it. This is my mouth. This is the cavern of all my lies, the birth of my promises, a corpse of rust. This is my first leap - the miles between my cheekbones, the time you’ve spent with your eyes closed - did you imagine my mouth was a spider web blooming? Did you imagine my tongue was a typewriter you could learn to play?”—Carrie Rudzinski, A History of Mouths (via unfoldingthemyth)
“You just like the idea of me. You like the person I present myself under circumstances that I can control. I choose what I say and how I say things. It’s like being attracted to a fictional character in a book. They are scripted and made up. If you think about it, through writings, we all script and make ourselves up. I don’t share the person I become when I am upset. I don’t show you how I look like when I sleep. I don’t tell you about all the times I’ve made someone cry. All the guilty things I’ve done and the bad thoughts I’ve had.”—Han (via pearlai)
“It’s half ache, half compulsion. I don’t know if I want to pull you closer or leave you behind. Don’t know if from afar we look like some multi-story car crash. Mostly, I can’t do it by halves. I either want to spend the rest of my life with you or I never want to see you again. It’s do or die. I’ll kiss you or I’ll kill you. All I know is that I won’t do both.”—Azra.T “I never learned how to feel with half of myself.” (via shigaretto)
“My hands were tired and my eyes were red. My breathing quickened and my stomach turned. My mind grasped at anything to keep me steady.
My stomach starts to unravel.
My mind begins to settle.
Your touch. Your lips. Your laugh.
Your name”—Government exams make me uneasy
I know that someday you’ll be sleeping, Darling, likely dreaming off the pain. I hope you’ll hear me in the streetlight’s humming, softly breathing out your name. I know that even with the seams stitched tightly, darling scars will remain. I say we scrape them from each other, darling, and let them wash off in the rain. And when they run into the river, oh no, let the water not complain. I swear that even with the distance, slowly wearing at your name, Your hands still catch the light the right way and Our hearts still beat the same.