ex-spatio reblogged
ex-spatio reblogged
“Sometimes all you had to do was exist to be someone’s saviour.”
— Keigo Higashino // The Devotion of Suspect X
years have passed, it's quiet now. the halls no longer hear happy child laughter. the kitchen no longer smells of happiness and cookies.
there's a weird scent in the air. one of resentment and abandonment; it sticks to the walls like claws, scratching on the tapestry. the flower petals have holes in them.
grandma's old vase broke two nights ago. the cat tore it down. no one has bothered to pick up the pieces. they lay like knives on the floor; sharp, a danger to everybody near.
i am a house. with a kitchen and a toilet and a livingroom and a broken vase and halls that don't sing and cookies that don't bake and flower petals that have holes in them and smiles that don't shine.
it’s been years since i was a home / e.r
ex-spatio reblogged
November always gives back
my mind all the things
I have done within a year.
A month that makes me
feel old and young
at the same moment.
November makes me
remember the time when
my heart started beating.
ma.c.a // Eleventh (via vomitingwords)
ex-spatio reblogged
So if you can,
love her
like she’s
the only
flower
in this
world.
Let her bloom
without destroying
the inner beauty
of her heart.
ma.c.a // Sun (via vomitingwords)
ex-spatio reblogged
her colors are muted and she looks tired.
‘holding up,’ she says,
and i’m just holding up too but god, this contrast;
light and dark,
soft and bold,
melancholy and anger,
beauty and the furthest thing from it.
she is unsettling, yet…
not in a bad way.
not at all.
and she is lovely.
her eyes are gentle,
blue like twilight
(and i understand for the first time why
they’re supposed to be the windows to the soul).
her hair is not spun gold
and she doesn’t shine like the sun;
she is the moon in all its glory.
the kind of light she carries cannot be explained–
it’s in her bones and the way she walks,
and the way she speaks.
soft,
like she doesn’t want to be seen or heard.
but she is beautiful.
god built the universe
with a voice like that.
when a girl loves a girl the stars fall to the earth. (via fragileabsolution)
ex-spatio reblogged
she is a dark night, music playing at midnight
while the stars compete to outshine the moon
you are a pink flower, delicate and warm
blossoming only in bright, summer sunlight
she is an evening primrose, at night she comes alive
and while she blooms, you wait for her.
even as your own petals fall to the ground / e.r (via ex-spatio)
ex-spatio reblogged
i am a wallflower
and i belong to the sea.
the sun—
warm and giggling at me.
trees everywhere—
surrounding me and i’m healed.
i am not moving.
just letting the sea take me.
i feel free.
i feel like i belong in this world.
i am not a stranger here.
this is my home.
i breathe.
i breathe.
and i dive to see a thousand corals.
they are smiling at me.
they tell me that i am recovering.
they tell me that i belong.
there is no need to be afraid
of my monster.
there are plenty of fishes here
to protect me—
to guide me home.
i love myself so much.
i am still fucking alive.
i am glowing and flowing.
the song of my suffering is ending.
juansen dizon, batangas (via juansendizon)
ex-spatio reblogged
what about those
who don’t want to live past
the age of 25? what about those
who can’t see a future, what
about those who live in the now
because it’s all that they’ve ever known?
what about those who drink
too much? what about those who are
obsessed with control
a little too much and it turned into
something ugly? what about those with addictions that don’t make them pretty?
what about us?
(via deadwatered)
ex-spatio reblogged
a woman’s body
is so damn magical
that it can take a seed
and turn it into life,
something
that only the earth itself
has the strength to do.
daishasharese (via shareaquote)
ex-spatio reblogged
somepiecesofmyheartandsoul-deac
To give someone
the world
is one thing.
To make them
feel like
they are the world
is another thing.
Lukas W. // One thing or another (via somepiecesofmyheartandsoul)
ex-spatio reblogged
summerbornwinterstorm
She’s a girl,
And I love her.
I cannot marry her,
But I love her.
She loves me,
And she shouldn’t.
I love her,
But I shouldn’t.
She’s not right for me, you say.
Could never protect me, you say.
Her voice is too gentle,
Her skin too smooth,
And her heart too tender.
Her breasts,
Her hair,
Her eyes,
Undeniable beauty,
But not for me.
Meant for a man.
She’d wither against the malice of this world.
We’d be judged,
Denied peace,
Never ascend to heaven.
But behind those breasts lives a heart
That beats in time with mine.
Behind those eyes
Lies understanding,
Kindness,
Intelligence.
A ‘her’ that exists to me alone.
And though her voice is soft,
Her words could slice steel,
Render giants helpless,
Could wage wars and rattle the dead,
Would defend me far better than a pair of broad shoulders,
Or a deep voice.
She’s my shield,
My sword,
My guardian,
My lover,
My angel,
My demon.
Your judgement,
Your words,
Are not the foundation for our peace.
And in a single breath,
I would trade the heaven in the clouds
For the heaven between her arms.
ex-spatio reblogged
Time doesn’t fly
It flows like a river
Sometimes pleasantly
Between green lush valleys
And sometimes drowning you with waves crashing wildly
You can either sit and let the time flow
Or flow with it wherever it goes
So hold my hand, let’s swim together
I don’t know where time leads
But if we’re together, it’ll be beautiful I know
(via rncpoems)
ex-spatio reblogged
determinate
Source: weheartit.com
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