Reblogged from rumbox  133 notes

You were the carousel ride that
I went on again and again
until my knees shook.
You were the lucky dip
I was actually happy with,
you were tinsel in April
and the first time I ever
experienced a sun shower.
You were the beautiful thing lying
next to me the next morning
which I didn’t dare regret.
When the memory of you hurts
like a needle entering the most
supple of skin, I think of how
there will be someone else
who can make my bones shiver,
who can turn me on and off
like a flickering bathroom light.
I think of how the
yellow maple leaves
will be here soon and that
there is always snow
falling somewhere. By jessica therese, “It Is Always Snowing, Somewhere” (via contramonte)

Reblogged from rumbox  2,375 notes

When it is but it aint

Some of us love badly. Sometimes the love is the type of love that implodes. Folds in on itself. Eats its insides. Turns wine to poison. Behaves poorly in restaurants. Drinks. Kisses other people. Comes back to your bed at 4am smelling like everything outside. Asks about your ex. Is jealous of your ex. Thinks everyone a rival. Some of us love others badly, love ourselves worse. Some of us love horrid, love beastly. Love sick love anti light. Sometimes the love can’t go home at night, can’t sleep with itself cannot contain itself, catches fire, destroys the belly, strips buildings, goes missing. Punches. Smashes heirlooms. Tells lies. The best lies. Fucks around. Writes poems, impresses people. Chases lovers into corners. Leaves them longing. Sea sick. Says yes. Means anything but. Tricks the body. Kills the body. Dances wild and walks away, smiling.

By Yrsa Daley-Ward (via yrsadaleyward)