absentions:

just ur local neighborhood cutie enjoying some lights

lovelysuggestions:

The sun will always rise and dogs always be happy to see you

buttonpoetry:

“The words ‘I am’ are slowly transforming into ‘I used to be’ because every year, the past tense finds a larger house inside the neighborhood of my everyday vernacular.”

— Rudy Francisco, from Helium

lulloph:

this november we are healing from things we don’t talk about

absentions:

here to make ur heart go uwu

nef-nauy:

“what i like about her is that she blooms whether you water her or not. whether you give her light or not. she exists without your existence.”

— iambrillyant  (via wnq-writers)

(Source: wnq-writers.com)

i hope your scars are healing, and that you can learn to love yourself, even when your heart is in tatters

buttonpoetry:

“The consistency of hurt is what makes it so comforting.”

— William Nu'utupu Giles, “What Do You Want? It’s Not That Simple”
(via buttonpoetry)

theolepsy:

“I overcame myself, the sufferer; I carried my own ashes to the mountains; I invented a brighter flame for myself. And behold, then this ghost fled from me.”

— Friedrich Nietzsche (via quotemadness)

(Source: quotemadness.com)

larmoyante:

“Perhaps the problem is not the intensity of your love but the quality of the people you are loving.”

— Warsan Shire

anditslove:

“You have belonged better in your own arms than in anyone else’s.Remember you are the softest love you will ever have.”

— Nikita Gill, Wild Embers

anditslove:

“I wonder if, as you get older, you stop missing people so fiercely. Maybe growing up is just focusing on what you’ve got, instead of what you don’t.”

— Jodi Picoult, Leaving Time

buttonpoetry:

“i could, so easily, let my heart back inside this burning house.”

— Donte Collins, from Autopsy

7-weeks:

“Call what we had an oil spill. Call what we had dirty laundry. Call how I pulled your face from the concrete that evening when you wanted a vehicle to tear open your body like Thanksgiving dinner, manipulation. Call my name now and you will not hear an exaltation, but a eulogy of every negative aspect you can relate to a relationship. Call your anger venting when we both know it is you accepting the destruction of your own being. Call what you and your new girl have pure spring water. Call what you feel for her awakening. Call it revelation. Call it enlightenment. Call what we shared poisonous; ivy crossed with stinging nettle crossed with nightshade. Call this disastrous persona you carry something holy. Call yourself beginning anew, and ending later. Call yourself magic; all starlight and coal turned diamond. Call our ending the meteor that avoided colliding with your planetary body. Call my name a singe against your skin. Call your absence blessing. Call this end retribution. Call her name poetry incarnate. Call my aura an alarm you never learned how to switch off after my leaving. Call this final. Don’t call me.”

— don’t // Haley Hendrick