The Girl Behind The Red Door...

I'm Emily. 22. Film major. walking jukebox. Working in Television/news. Every word I cannot express logically comes out in a mess of poems and writing or whatever you may want to call it. Some of you draw. Some of you write. Some of you take photos or sing or play an instrument or scream your words out loud when nobody's listening. But that's the beauty of life. Those are the things that make us feel alive.So, I'm here to share with you the things that make me feel just that. oh yes, and what I write on here is mine so pleaseee don't steal it >.

I almost thanked you for
teaching me something about survival
back there,
but then I remembered
that the ocean never
handed me the gift of swimming.
I gave it to myself.

—Y.Z, what I forgot to remember (via rustyvoices)

(via bright-eyed-shadows)

I am not the first person you loved.

You are not the first person I looked at with a mouthful of forevers.

We have both known loss like the sharp edges of a knife. We have both lived with lips more scar tissue than skin.

Our love came unannounced in the middle of the night.

Our love came when we’d given up on asking love to come.

I think that has to be part of its miracle.

This is how we heal.

I will kiss you like forgiveness. You will hold me like I’m hope. Our arms will bandage and we will press promises between us like flowers in a book. I will write sonnets to the salt of sweat on your skin. I will write novels to the scar of your nose. I will write a dictionary of all the words I have used trying to describe the way it feels to have finally, finally found you.

And I will not be afraid of your scars.

I know sometimes it’s still hard to let me see you in all your cracked perfection, but please know:

Whether it’s the days you burn more brilliant than the sun or the nights you collapse into my lap, your body broken into a thousand questions, you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

I will love you when you are a still day.

I will love you when you are a hurricane.

Clementine von Radics, Mouthful of Forevers (via sagaciousefflundancy)

(via ishaethera)

I mean, I hope you’re happy,
But the sky is still the sky without you,
And I’m not surprised by that anymore.

Caitlyn Siehl, from This is Not a Love Poem (via usedhalo)

(Source: pukesplatter, via teaspoonss)