This is not for you.
Enfp. Bpd

When I was trying to quit smoking
and we drank white wine from Mason jars,
you called my freckles cocoa powder
and I called your green eyes

I am learning how to be a grown-up
who pays bills, cooks her own meals,
and doesn’t cry at words like
I think I just want to be friends.

The truth is this:
Love is an organic thing.
It rots and softens.

—All That’s Left To Tell, Clementine von Radics (via catchinggfinnick)

(Source: clementinevonradics, via lavitaebela)

I now know what I want: I want to remain standing still in the sea.

Clarice Lispector, from An Apprenticeship (University of Texas Press, 1986)

(Source: apoetreflects)

Maybe some darks are deep enough to swallow
what we want them to.

But you can’t have two worlds in your hands
and choose emptiness.

Mary Szybist, from “So-and-So Descending from the Bridge”, in Incarnadine (via hiddenshores)

There were so many things I wanted to tell you.
Or rather,
I wished to have things that I wanted to tell you.

What a thing, to be with you and have
no words for it. What a thing,
to be outcast like that.

Mary Szybist, from “Long after the Desert and Donkey,” Incarnadine: Poems (Graywolf Press, 2013)

(Source: apoetreflects)