Love

The future is written in that bowl, sugar-cream topographies of the soul. 

somehow in the midst of my losing battle with time, I traded my ability to feel for disappointing wisdom in a deal I never remember making.

touch me like nobody else does / like nobody cares to learn what secrets lie within / like no one will ever yearn to hear the whispers you search for.

love feels like: a vase of pink tulips / easing into a good book / a water balloon fight / the night before your favorite concert

I brush fingers with a dream so close to reality, but it slips away without fail every time, and the people I trust with my heart eat me alive.

The prospect of love and care materialized the shared vision of People’s Park.

After allowing my emotions to rest in the hands of another for so long, feeling disconnected from stability propelled me to understand the beauty in the middle.

The implication stands naked in front of you. Across countries and cultures, women cannot have a life detached from a dick. It’s a fantasy, a wet dream.

I hated most of all that, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t do anything. No matter how much I wanted to be, I couldn’t be enough.

As someone who has tumbled through her fair share of heartbreak and separations, I know my number-one comfort during this utter loneliness is indulging in the cheesiness and dramatics of dating shows!