Never Fall In Love With A Child
by sleepwithapathy
Never fall in love with a child
for they are simple-hearted.
They love as they need.
She loves for she needs her father’s kiss.
He loves for he needs his mother’s breast.
Never go on a date with a child.
Their attention spans are short.
They will fidget in their seats
until
you let them go and leave you
to finish your champagne alone.
Never play games with a child.
They think they can fool you
with the best hiding places
but worse, you have to play along
if you want to keep them happy.
Never hand a child deadly weapons
like “I love you” or “You’re beautiful”.
They don’t know how to use them.
They’ll play them like party favors,
and leave them lying around by the end of the night.
Never give your heart to a child
because when they break it,
they’ll sweep the broken pieces under the rug
And expect you to believe them
When they say they didn’t do it.
(Source: ccabs, via thunderpopcola)
You are like a beautiful flower in a bunch of sharp thorns. Then I realized that the thorns are also you, lingering in your heart, never wanting to go away, because it’s stuck.
And you can’t let go.
You just can’t.
I love listening to it. Feels like a haunted lullaby. Sounds like the music that will play once you see that person you missed a lot and wondered how much you’ve missed them.
———————————————————————————-
Jack’s Dream - Oblivion soundtrack by M83
rain just started,
the air flows through my apartment - blowing from window to window;
curtains flutter & whirl about dancing in the wind.
rain pours down outside the screens, the wind blows the fine particles inside
a sweet smell enters the air - one of earth & water,
petrichor….
all while my lovely dog huddles, shivering on the bed with me.
“People empty me. I have to get away to refill.”
-Charles Bukowski
Books and tea are always a perfect match on a really good day.
(via prettybooks)
“What I feel I shouldn’t show you,
so when you’re around I won’t;
I know I’ve no right to feel it,
but it doesn’t mean I don’t.”
— Lang Leav
Photo by Michal Zahornacky
Missed Risks
I had been too careful with you, scared of messing anything up…That I missed on the chance of creating what could possibly be the greatest love story this world could ever have.
You were worth all the risk I didn’t have the courage to take.
I wonder every time I wake up in the morning if you had a good night sleep.
That maybe the sunrise gave you hope for another pleasant day ahead.
Then I will be sitting here if you don’t mind, just watching the sun rise up with it’s ever beautiful glory. And wonder what you are thinking. I close my eyes.
I will let you die.
I will let you die in my mind and be vanished.
I will let you be in peace, and free you from my scattered thoughts.
Then I can finally breathe and start my morning without regrets.
My worries will be gone, all my sorry will be forgotten.
I will let you slip off my fingers and see you wander around as light as a feather, finding a new place to drop by.
The burden will be gone.
You will be gone.
And you won’t be found again.
I open my eyes.
I feel the heat wrapped around my face, yet the chills still linger on my shoulders, as if hugging me from all the burden I have just let go of.
All will be good.
But tonight I’m going to cry myself to sleep.
Because tomorrow, I will let you die again.
Lois Lowry, The Giver
I love painters.
I love visiting art galleries and spend time ogling at the most peculiar, odd looking paintings and all the rather most beautiful ones in the bunch. I love chatting with the painters, of such thoughts they presume and happiness in their tone whenever they explain their work in front of you.
Such bliss.
In fact, I wonder what’s inside a painters mind?
I always think about the painter, before the paintings.
I think they’re too reserved, their mind is too introverted and they have a way of looking and defining things. They have this artistic mind that always seems like a natural “zen” to almost everything. Not trying to sound like they’re a monk here, but, I just wonder everytime I look a painting, I try to guess what the painter was thinking when they were painting it.
One day, I will have to get to spend a whole day with a painter and I will be able to understand.
Darling, I don’t care. I just don’t.
Our daydream spills from my gold head
Breaks free of my wooden neck
Left a nod over sleeping waves
Like bobbing bait for bathing cod
Floating flocks of candle swans
Slowly drift across wax ponds
——————————————
Behind The Sea - Panic At The Disco (Alternative Version)
