Closure is bullshit. A manifestation. Something created to make people think that if you look hard enough you’ll find an answer that will wrap whatever screwy situation you happen to be in up in a pretty pink bow and then you can take it and store it away in some dark spot in your…
for it’s all I really know;
today, tomorrow and ever more
my love shall surely grow.
So forgive me if I love too much
I know no other way;
and so I shall, with all I am
forever
come what may."
(via graciouswords)
i found you
again today,
faded and dusty
inside a rusty box
on the top shelf
of a dark closet,
inside my head.
(Source: thedustdancestoo)
None of your scars can make me love you less
(Source: fuckingcnt, via fuckyeahilikechicks)
through the medium of poetry
Each written verse my heart does bleed
fragments of the unknown me.
It’s strange to think, those tiny fractions
receive more love, receive more action
than the heart from where my words are formed
the heart where you truly belong.
As I scribe these words, it’s clear
you’re in my heart, you’re always here
you’re the love in all I write
the verse in which others delight
All the love my verse receives
was never ever meant for me
it’s you they love, my sweet sweet muse
I am unlovable, used and abused."
(via graciouswords)
someone. One day I’ll be
seen. One day I’ll hold
someone’s hand, be
touched but not by dreams.
One day I will greet the morn
with someone’s breath upon my
skin. One day I will open up
when someone lets me in.
One day."
(via graciouswords)
I’ve often said age means nothing;
but, that’s not the entire truth.
For time, that most stringent teacher,
has yet to visit youth.And, youth can never envision
that which it has yet to learn—
that every day is precious;
that no one has time to burn.Heed this reader, and be wary—
knowledge only now I carry—
relish life, and never tarry;
too quickly, these pages are turned.
