When death reached out its hand,
you should have cowered. When you felt the
flames of hell licking at your insides, you were not
supposed to draw closer to the fire.
I watched you disembowel the Earth, saw you pluck
flowers from your mother’s garden and gouge
your fingers into its open wounds,
trying to pry secrets out from the soil.
Everything green started to shrivel
and die when I entered the meadow, but you didn’t
flinch away; instead you kissed me voracious,
like I was something dark you’d tugged
out of reluctant soil.
I wanted your hands, still caked in dirt,
pressing into my naked back.
I thought you’d understand me. Both of us
wanting what we shouldn’t. I know your mother
must have warned you about gods like me.
Tell her I am not a selfish lover. Tell her how
I kneel at your altar and crush the berries
of your hips into wine. That I worship you.
That we spread each other open like flowers
blooming in the night. You wanted to see
what paradise looked like drenched in moonlight,
so I brought you home with me.
When you stood before the gates of hell,
all the beasts lowered their heads
and bowed at your feet.
Everything I have belongs to
you — my wife, my queen.
You are so much flesh and blood,
so much heaving, pulsing, breathing life.
You make the death in me tremble.
I am forever yours.
By 'Hades'| Anita O. (via deeplystained)
We are sitting on your bed, there is distance between us and the silence is suffocating me. I am holding my knees to my chest. My body is shaking; you are quiet. I ask you if you still love me, and you tell me that you are not sure that you ever did.
By Mariah Gordon-Dyke, The Best, and the Worst Day (via larmoyante)
"He wanted me to love him unconditionally, but Jimmy was not able to love someone else in return … he was the troubled boy that wanted to be loved very badly. I loved Jimmy as I have loved no one else in my life, but I could not give him the enormous amount that he needed. Loving Jimmy was something that could empty a person." -
'I don't think I even breathe when we're not together,' she whispered. 'Which means, when I see you on Monday morning, it's been like sixty hours since I've taken a breath. That's probably why I'm so crabby, and why I snap at you. All I do when we're apart is think about you, and all I do when we're together is panic. Because every second feels so important. And because I'm so out of control, I can't help myself. I'm not even mine anymore, I'm yours, and what if you decide that you don't want me? How could you want me like I want you?'
By Rainbow Rowell, Eleanor & Park (via broadens)
I’m filling in the empty spaces
of my heart where you once
stayed, where you used to
call home. It’s difficult,
but it’s working, and I can
finally say that I’m starting to
feel whole again. That I am
starting to feel like who I was
before you took up all the vacant
rooms in this vessel that is
keeping me alive. You always
felt so comfortable when you
could call my body your haven,
your escape, your home away
from home. When you left
my chamber of rhythmic beats
I wasn’t sure if I could
ever find something as spacious
as your body, or something
as calming as your presence,
but I did. And I didn’t have to
search for someone who could
someday use me as their own
personal get away. I found
that within myself, within my
own ability to heal the broken
pieces that you never got around
to fixing. I don’t need anyone
to make me feel whole like I once
needed your help doing.
I can now say that my heart
will be just fine without the help
of someone who is looking
for a home inside of another.
By "My home is where my heart is," - Colleen Brown (via mostlyfiction)