Dream

"He wants me back.
And yes he pleaded.
He asked me to come back and start over.

I see the look in his eyes.
It was sad and gloomy.
And it was like he never wanted to close his eyes for I might fade away.

I felt the way he touched me
It felt so real
And I felt the longing from it.

I cried and cried.
For I’ve been waiting for this moment in a long time.
I held him tight making me felt his warmth.

But then I woke up
And realized it was just a dream
But damn it felt real.

I felt tears in my cheeks.
And an ache in my chest
And I just started crying.

Yes I wanted it to be real.
I wished it was.
But dreams don’t come true don’t they?

They never will.
And it will never happen.
For I knew our love has ended and can never start over.”

rustyvoices
He starts it off, as they always do, by saying,
“I still want to be friends” but I am already
on the next subway, the next taxi, the next whatever.
I am thinking about dinner that night, or the next night:
Angus beef, sauteed chicken, mahi mahi fish tacos.
I am thinking about the coffee pot and runner’s knee
and how much money I have in my savings. I am
thinking about hypothermia and missing bodies;
all the knives in my bed. I am thinking about how
the very word promise sounds more like an undoing.
I am thinking about the easiness of mouths.
How they open. How they give so much but also
about how they take away the things our minds
have committed to that permanent place of the brain,
where memories continue to rattle around long after
we’ve stopped shaking. I am thinking about how
he has turned me into a lake and I’ve never learned
how to swim. I am thinking about how I now have to
unlearn all of his secrets. Become a tourist to his body
again, blink against the hurt. I am thinking about
expensive hair cuts and retail therapy, dressing room
girls who are used to outlandish requests from customers.
I am thinking that this isn’t a dress my mother
would approve of, but honey, I look so good in red.
Kristina Haynes, “The Breakup Sweats” (via fleurishes)
"I used to think I was though, but then I realized I wasn’t. I was fragile and I wore thick fucking armor. And hurt people so they couldn’t hurt me. And I thought that was what being tough was, but it isn’t"

"I used to think I was though, but then I realized I wasn’t. I was fragile and I wore thick fucking armor. And hurt people so they couldn’t hurt me. And I thought that was what being tough was, but it isn’t"

wreckers

He’d never cared much for strawberries, but that summer her lips were so stained with the juices that they were all he tasted.

And he’d never had a favourite fruit, but two years later, a new girl is sat in front of him, laughing at his jokes.

"If you could only eat one thing for the rest of your life, what would it be?" She asks playfully.

And he remembers how her hands traced the veins in his neck and made their way across his chest. He remembers her soft breathing and limbs draped across his shoulders.

"Strawberries." He tells her. "I could live a life on nothing but strawberries."

Excerpt from a book I’ll never write #54 -"Strawberries" (via fearlessknightsandfairytales)

Fuck

(via arabellashigh)