preselymanhattan-blog

[preselymanhattan-blog]

#emilyandthewoods

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She's absolutly amazing

[preselymanhattan-blog]

the clouds taste stale and the inside of my ribs is closer to ashes than the throne room my mother constructed and last night i dreamed that i lost you again and when i woke up you weren’t there to tell me it was just a nightmare and this morning i could have sworn i was drowning but it was just another shower without the touch of your skin if there’s such a thing as sad obsession, this is it Nothing comes close to the truth these days, not like those buses we always missed when we ran stop lights or the times we nearly tumbled off the bridge because we couldn’t stop leaning forward to see everything that was flying by beneath us. My mother showed me how to make new bones using old ones and patch them up with calcium and super glue but even with this new cage guarding my heart I don’t think I can keep it here; at night it rattles the bars and howls all the old songs we used to sing. All this wine and all these nights collecting empty bottles hasn’t brought me any closer to myself, only given me a way to stain my growth rings so I’ll never forget the years I spent mourning you. how do you find yourself when you’ve buried your dreams in the bones of someone else? how do you unwrap yourself from your memories? souls are not spots on a radar i cannot simply pluck my happiness out of thin air not when every ounce of oxygen tastes like our last kiss not when my bedroom has never stopped smelling like you not when the bottom of every bottle is filled with whispers of your words not when i still love you so much it actually hurts We’ve tried to leave each other in graveyards but when the sun sets and the ghosts come out, we just tell them about the abyss we keep in our chests and they leave us alone because the truth us I’m about to suck in everything around me just trying to fill up the space you left and sometimes all I leave are ashes in my wake and the soot always spells out your name. Every week I pack my bags, buy a ticket to another city and try to lose you among the street signs and crowds but you never get lost, or maybe the truth is I can’t stop finding you everywhere I go.

nights like this: a collaboration between a beautiful person and myself. (via inkskinned)

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I used to think I was wright. ✔

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You’ve made me know what it feels like to be loved, and for that I’m deeply grateful

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It was true.

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Quiero empezar por un comunicado oficial. He llegado a la conclusión de que te quiero

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Después de la alegría, después de la plenitud, después del amor, viene la soledad

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Te quiero pero no deseo luchar contra el destino. Disfrutaré de vez en cuando de tu recuerdo que seguira alternandome

[preselymanhattan-blog]

Amor de Tarde

Es una lástima que no estés conmigo cuando miro el reloj y son las cuatro y acabo la planilla y pienso diez minutos y estiro las piernas como todas las tardes y hago así con los hombros para aflojar la espalda y me doblo los dedos y les saco mentiras. Es una lástima que no estés conmigo cuando miro el reloj y son las cinco y soy una manija que calcula intereses o dos manos que saltan sobre cuarenta teclas o un oído que escucha como ladra el teléfono o un tipo que hace números y les saca verdades. Es una lástima que no estés conmigo cuando miro el reloj y son las seis. Podrías acercarte de sorpresa y decirme "¿Qué tal?" y quedaríamos yo con la mancha roja de tus labios tú con el tizne azul de mi carbónico.

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There’s bigger infinites than others

(via preselymanhattan)