Three years later, a new girl sits cross-legged on your bed.
She tastes like a different flavor of bubblegum than you are used to.
She opens up a book that you had to read in high school, and a folded picture of us falls out of chapter three.
Now there are two unfinished stories resting in her lap.
Inevitably, she asks, and you tell her.

You say: I dated her a while back.
You don’t say: Sometimes, when I’m holding you, I imagine the smell of her vanilla perfume.

You say: She was younger than me.
You don’t say: The sixteen summers in her bones warmed the eighteen winters my skin had weathered.

You say: It’s nothing now.
You don’t say: But it was everything then.

Some things are better left unsaid.  (via homowrecked)

(via kmots)

Perhaps we’ll find each other later,
when we aren’t two kids
scrambling to find a home.

Maybe we’ll intersect again,
with new collections
of memories and dreams
tied to our ankles,
searching for someone
to lighten to burden.

And maybe, just maybe,
next time the
I-love-yous will be real,
instead of muttered hopes
that left our lips bloodstained.

Emily Palermo, I’ll See You in Five Years (via starredsoul)

(via kmots)

He may love you. He probably does. He probably thinks about you all the time. But that isn’t what matters. What matters is what he’s doing about it, and what he’s doing about it is nothing. And if he’s doing nothing, you most certainly shouldn’t do anything. You need someone who goes out of their way to make it obvious that they want you in their life.

(via bl-ossomed)

What if they tryed going out of there way and gave you everything and u broke there heart

(via bands-n-depression)

but really…. what if

(via withloveclarissa)