Little Honesties

i'm much more honest when i write. i'm self-destructive and this is something better to do with my hands. (all numbered posts written by me.)

that corpse you planted last year in your garden,
has it begun to sprout? will it bloom this year?
or has the sudden frost disturbed its bed?

T.S. Eliot, The Waste Land  (via mirroir)

(Source: beryl-azure, via mooneyedandglowing)

Love is not an equation, it is not a contract, and it is not a happy ending. Love is the slate under the chalk, the ground that buildings rise, and the oxygen in the air. It is the place you come back to, no matter where you’re headed.

I watched a girl in a sundress kiss another girl on a park bench, and just as the sunlight spilled perfectly onto both of their hair, I thought to myself: “How bravely beautiful it is, that sometimes, the sea wants the city, even when it has been told its entire life it was meant for the shore.

—Christopher Poindexter  (via 5000letters)

(Source: siouxerz, via teeg103)

I ruin everything I touch.
These hands do nothing but destroy

I promise to love you:

at 6am when you’re waking to go to work, to school, or whatever road life takes you on, and when you didn’t sleep well, your hair is a mess, and your eyes are sleepy.

at 8am when we say goodbye for the day and you’re rushing out the door with a cup of tea and your car keys in the other hand.

at 5pm when you’re exhausted from the day and people have worn you out and you feel like crying, and falling asleep and escaping from everything. I will kiss your forehead, and wrap myself in your arms.

at 10pm when you’re heading to bed, even though you won’t sleep for hours. Especially when we become a human knot wrapped up in sheets and kisses.

at 3am when loneliness and sadness do not destroy you, but consume you and when you weep without an explanation, I’ll kiss your lips softly and tell you you’re the absolute best and that things will be better soon

I will love you when you grow old, and I will love you after that. I will love you if I’m no longer here. I will love you, I will love you, and I will love you.

—I Promise To Love You Forever (via barbieandken)

(Source: -poetic, via bealivefeelalive)

When I was seven, I wanted to glue autumn leaves back onto the branches they fell from, returning each to its home. Yesterday, I stepped on a pile of damp leaves on the sidewalk. When I heard them crunch beneath my feet, I felt nothing.

Kayla Hollatz, This is what growing up looks like. (via thetalltwig)

(via mariannapaige)

if he isn’t calling you then it’s okay to feel
this destroyed over a boy but remember
he did you a favor i know you think this is
the end but it is also the beginning it is also
cleaning up after yourself you can’t keep
crawling inside other people sooner or later
the heap of clothes at the foot of your bed
is going to stand up on its own and talk back
you can’t just wash your hair in the sink
forever when there are people with real
problems who still remember to recycle
and when did you become so soft? trying
so hard to look sexy in photos that you come
off as confused eating nothing but waffles
is not a diet even if there are blueberries
don’t ask just tell about the kinds of shocking
things you find under your nail beds your
mother warned you about pain that would be
there one day and then gone the next she
warned you about it all

Kristina Haynes, “If He Isn’t Calling You” (via fleurishes)

(via mariannapaige)