Time is not money. It's much more valuable than money.
Money you can always get more of, time you only have for so long.
  • Sierra DeMulder, Unrequited Love Poem (via vvrists)

    (via brookeballsack)

  • "

    You will be out with friends
    when the news of her existence
    will be accidentally spilled all over
    your bar stool. Respond calmly
    as if it was only a change in weather,
    a punch line you saw coming.
    After your fourth shot of cheap liquor,
    leave the image of him kissing another woman
    in the toilet.


    In the morning, her name will be
    in every headline: car crash, robbery, flood.
    When he calls you, ignore the hundreds of ropes
    untangling themselves in your stomach:
    You are the best friend again. He invites
    you over for dinner, say yes
    too easily. Remind yourself this isn’t special,
    it’s only dinner; everyone has to eat.
    When he greets you at the door, do not think
    for one second you are the reason
    he wore cologne tonight.


    Someone told you once, a soul mate is not the person
    who makes you the happiest, but the one
    who makes you feel the most. Who conducts your heart
    to bang the loudest, who can drag you giggling
    with forgiveness from the cellar they locked you in.
    It has always been him.


    In his kitchen, he will hand-feed you
    a piece of red pepper. His laugh
    will be low and warm and it will make you
    feel like candlelight. Do not think this is special.
    Do not count on your fingers the number
    of freckles you could kiss too easily.
    Try to think of pilot lights or olive oil,
    not everything you have ever loved about him,
    or it will suddenly feel boiling and possible
    and so close. You will find her bobby pins
    lying innocently on his bathroom sink.
    Her bobby pins. They look like the wiry legs
    of spiders, splinters of her undressing
    in his bed. Do not say anything.
    Think of stealing them, wearing them
    home in your hair. When he hugs you goodbye,
    let him kiss you on the forehead.
    Settle for target practice.


    At home, you will picture her across town
    pressing her fingers into his back
    like wet cement. You will wonder
    if she looks like you, if you are two bedrooms
    in the same house. Did he fall for her features
    like rearranged furniture? When he kisses her,
    does she taste like new paint?


    You will want to call him.
    You will go as far as holding the phone
    in your hand, imagine telling him
    unimaginable things like you are always
    ticking inside of me and I dream of you
    more often than I don’t.
    My body is a dead language
    and you pronounce
    each word perfectly.


    Do not call him.
    Fall asleep to the hum of the VCR.
    She must make him happy.
    She must be,
    She must be his favorite place in Minneapolis.
    You are a souvenir shop, where he goes
    to remember how much people miss him
    when he is gone.

    "
    1. lindvals reblogged this from lindvals
    2. perdu-et-seul reblogged this from perdu-et-seul
    3. vannahhjohnson reblogged this from everythingoodwastaken-blog
    4. darling-im-a-walkingtravesty reblogged this from noorshirazie
    5. theclinae reblogged this from theclinae
    6. hypomaniac reblogged this from haphazardsunflower
    7. kayla-daisy reblogged this from heartcountry
    8. breezeyminds reblogged this from ocexanic
    9. wavyamericana reblogged this from ocexanic
    10. releewhk reblogged this from releewhk
    11. littlebabydoe reblogged this from standbackwasted
    12. mrstalley reblogged this from mrstalley
    13. mississippi-masala reblogged this from brokenhyoid
    14. vamply reblogged this from crushofdoves