So how about this: We stop talking
altogether, put a check mark in the
‘finished’ box and label this a win.
I mean it’s not like we’re going any
further with this thing. We are
stunted growers; we have hit our
relational glass ceiling.

Or how about this: We continue
on as if this will be good for us.
Because loneliness is bitter and
we don’t have to be ‘together’ to
pass sugar between our mouths.
We will sail as co-captains knowing,
at some point, one of us will jump
ship for a prettier vessel. It doesn’t
matter that it will leave the other
alone and shipwrecked.

But how about this: You realize that
the way you love me doesn’t come
around often and that you should
give up your pride and be with me
because it would make both of us

anne, options (via anneisrestless)

Don’t jump ship

Why does everyone say
“First love”
When we all know
It is not chronological
Love defies all theories and expectations
So why would it obey the boundaries
Of something as petty as time
You were not my first love
You are not my last
You simply are my love
An entire being symbolizing the very nature of everything that I never knew I wanted
You are my love
And that will never change

- Taylor Cheri

I kiss until my lips sting.
I laugh until I cry and I cry until I can’t breathe.
I love without reserve, wholeheartedly and when my heart gets broken I let it bleed.
I disappear in people and find myself in books.
I don’t have thick skin. I feel everything, with every fiber of my being.
I don’t know how not to, I don’t know how to stop.
Sometimes I wish I did, but the thing is - I want to feel life until the moment I die.
What’s the point otherwise?
m.v., So when you call me sensitive, I’ll just smile and wear it like a badge of honor (via findingwordsforthoughts)

"If I showed you my skin
Would you look away
Divert your eyes
And say
“Not today”

Or would you step closer

Would you study me slowly
All my bruises and bumps

And admire me fully

Would you trace me in kisses
All in a line
And murmur your secrets
As you glide down my spine

Would you count all my fingers
My toes and my freckles
Would you want me still
When you reach my ankles

And when you see my goosebumps
Created from you
Would you read them like braille
And show me yours too

Would you whisper to me
That you love what you see

That you love who I am
And who I’m yet to be

If I show you my skin

Feel precious
Feel special

If I show you my skin

I’m already yours

To have

And to treasure”

Skin. -Taylor Cheri