heart leaking something so strong they can smell it in the street //
why is it always the woman who has to see past the beast in the man? why does she always have to clean his wounds, even after he has damaged her beyond repair? why is it always the man who is worthy of forgiveness for being a monster?
I want to see the beast in the beauty.
the half smile, half snarl. the unapologetic anger. I would like to see the man forgive the monster. to see her, blood and all, and love her anyway.
written by beauty and the beast | Caitlyn S. (via alonesomes)

FEBRUARY

1. I have small hands & a soft heart.  Bad skin, big eyes.  Your fingers got caught in my hair. You don’t love me but I bet that you could. 

2. You thought I was tragic but I’m only tired. Wrap me in a blanket, feed me honey from the jar. Or leave me in the ocean, so I can swim myself clean.

3. Bite my arm to remind myself: you’re radiant & I’m roadkill.

4. My chest is full of cobwebs and bees and half-dead stars, but still you wonder why when I cough it sounds like singing. You’re a famous hotel, a house fire.  I’m an empty jar, a rotting peach. I’m as sick as a girl can be. I’ll take any cure you offer. I’ll lick it off the street.

5. While I was watching the moon you were untying all the strings inside me. I spilled out, stained your favorite shirt.  I’d rather have the dirt under your nails than a thousand white flowers. 

6. My heart is a raincloud & the days you don’t touch me are the ones I wish I’d spent in bed.

7. But her hair is made of moonlight & my mouth is full of dirt.  So I carry my heart in my pocket. I walk myself home.  

It scares me when people say I’m sweet because I’m not. I’m bitter enough to burst, half-sick with rage on my good days. And if they think I’m not then it means I’m pretending, which would make me two kinds of terrible. 

i’d cut you out of my heart with a scalpel if i thought that would work

I am not writing poetry about you yet because I haven’t found language that is careful enough for your back against my fingers. In a room that is too loud, you are the softest noise I’ve known. If anyone was made for hands, it was you. If anyone was made for eyes, it was you. I want you to know that it doesn’t matter that we could only hold hands in the dark, that there were spaces made for us and they were in the awnings of shop windows in the rain when the owners had turned their faces away, or the back of a cinema, or a car park. I wanted to touch you everywhere, and I swear that I tried, in our stolen hours, to put my fingers anywhere that I thought they’d fit and it still wasn’t enough because I imagined your knees. And how the skin behind your legs is as soft as dawn, and how I would have pressed my cheek against them and kissed you there for hours and those would have been the way we tallied our moments together. The lipstick marks on your shirts and your fingers and that space beneath your jaw that feels exactly like the poetry I would write if I knew how. There are still spaces inside of me that are waiting for your hands. There are still parts of your stomach that I haven’t reached. I am in mourning for my collarbones and my hips, I am in mourning for all the parts of me that are still missing you and the night is wearing my skin and it is asking me ‘where is he and why isn’t he with you?’
written by Azra.T “This is an open letter of apology to my skin.”  (via 5000letters)
vintagelittleteacup:

california-studs:

fastenyourfuckingbelts:

polluteify:

im-simply-me:

1hey:

it hurt when I stumbled across her.  she was like broken glass all along the floor.  but it was beautiful and my curiosity got the best of me.  I remember looking at her and all I could see was pain.  she had this insane look of desperation; you could almost feel it. and yet her eyes were still hollow; like the life had been sucked out of her.  I wanted to pick up her pieces.  I wanted to put her back together. and so I tried. I really did. I got a little cut along the way.  the more I tried to fix her the more fragile I became myself but I didn’t care.  I wanted to see her happy.  every time I made her laugh I thought about how I wanted to make her laugh forever.  she was getting better.  eventually she was put together enough to get up and walk away.  but she didn’t take me with her.  and I’ve been stuck sitting here where I first found her. wondering if the pieces left on the floor are hers or mine. I should probably get the fuck up.

THIS IS SO BEAUTIFUL OHMYGOD

wow..

This actually fucking hurt to read.

THIS HURT SO MUCH TO READ

Oh my god, this is so heartbreaking yet so fucking beautiful to read. Just wow, I’m speechless.

vintagelittleteacup:

california-studs:

fastenyourfuckingbelts:

polluteify:

im-simply-me:

1hey:

it hurt when I stumbled across her.
she was like broken glass all along the floor.
but it was beautiful and my curiosity got the best of me.
I remember looking at her and all I could see was pain.
she had this insane look of desperation; you could almost feel it.
and yet her eyes were still hollow; like the life had been sucked out of her.
I wanted to pick up her pieces.
I wanted to put her back together.
and so I tried. I really did.
I got a little cut along the way.
the more I tried to fix her the more fragile I became myself but I didn’t care.
I wanted to see her happy.
every time I made her laugh I thought about how I wanted to make her laugh forever.
she was getting better.
eventually she was put together enough to get up and walk away.
but she didn’t take me with her.
and I’ve been stuck sitting here where I first found her.
wondering if the pieces left on the floor are hers or mine.
I should probably get the fuck up.

THIS IS SO BEAUTIFUL OHMYGOD

wow..

This actually fucking hurt to read.

THIS HURT SO MUCH TO READ

Oh my god, this is so heartbreaking yet so fucking beautiful to read. Just wow, I’m speechless.

You don’t love me. 
You love the way I hold a pen. 
So tell me, what happens when the ink runs dry?

1. I don’t like folding laundry or talking about my emotions. I’m likely to leave both scattered all over.
2. I’m not much for cooking but there will always be coffee.
3. I’ll wear anything of yours with sleeves. I love when they’re long enough to wrap around my hands.
4. Sometimes the world is too harsh, too big. It’s hard to leave the house on days like those.
5. When I was sick as a kid my mom would run a bath for me and wash my hair. It was always so soothing. Maybe you could do that every once in a while.
6. I find it difficult to finish most things. My room is home to countless journals of incomplete thoughts.
7. I won’t love you any less in December. I think my heart just wasn’t meant for the cold.
8. I never truly know why I’m crying so don’t bother to ask, simply be there.
9. There’s whiskey in the medicine cabinet.
10. If things get terribly bad, please don’t give up. Get me in the car and drive to the sea. The waves beneath my toes will wake me up and I’ll be yours again.
written by Things to know before promising you’ll stay
Something inside is hurting you – that’s why you need cigarettes or whiskey, or music turned so fucking loud you can’t think.
written by (via psychedelic-drugz)
if her name doesn’t feel like thorns in the back of your throat, is it really love?  #vsco #vscocam

if her name doesn’t feel like thorns in the back of your throat, is it really love? #vsco #vscocam

what do you say
when you’re not much 
but you’re all 
that you’ve got? 
because i really 
love you 
and i don’t 
love a lot

I already said too much. I already shared too much, and I want all my secrets back. I hate getting close to people these days, I always regret sharing too much, caring too much, doing too much, feeling too much.
written by Unknown

cottoncandyforbunnies:

goodbyeuphoria:

if you fell in love with me,
i wonder if you would
count my eyelashes
but i think they are
falling out because
i can’t stop stressing
about how low my grades
are getting and how
much time my friends are
spending without me
and maybe don’t play
with my hair because
it may be falling out too
so maybe just save
yourself the trouble
and don’t fall in love
with me
at all

cottoncandyforbunnies:


But i already did,
and as much as i’d want to
count your eyelashes or
play with your hair
i can’t either
because i’m stressing out too,
on why i’m doing so bad in chem,
or how to take in so many
terminologies
or why there are so many
different parts of specimens
we’d have to take in mind
when all i’d want to
take in mind is you
and how we seem so lost
sometimes,
silent and far-out,
looking into someplace
where we don’t really have
to worry about anything.
But falling inlove
with you
did save me trouble,
because whats better than not
having to worry at all,
is worrying if you
feel cold
or if the coffee’s too hot
or if i’m good enough for you

luv u huhu

Edukasyon! Edukasyon! Karapatan ng mamamayan! #ScrapSTS

Edukasyon! Edukasyon! Karapatan ng mamamayan! #ScrapSTS