Her scars are scars,
her eyes are blue
because they are,
and he never felt the need
to romanticize every part
of her being
because he takes them all
for what they are.
His heart is leather
just like his jacket
but it turns into
wool
for the girl next door.
I was once told
I should love myself
Because
Boys love girls
Who love themselves.
I don’t want
To love myself
So that other people
Will love me.
I want to
Love myself
So that I don’t
Need them to.
Source: coffee-crinkled-pages via iamunheardd
Thank you, universe.

Paulo Coelho once said something along the lines of, “When you want something, the universe conspires in helping you achieve it”. And it’s true. We don’t all have a God. But we all have the universe in common. So anyone can send a little prayer to the universe and it well help you in small ways until you get what you want (or most importantly, what you need). Thank you, universe. 

Do you see
these dreams?
These aren’t mine
but yours.
When I fall,
when I fall,
I can see you
standing with your hands
on your hips,
shaking your head,
as if my body
is composed
of failure alone.

A is for apples.
I see him walking down
the halls and I knew
he was forbidden fruit
and I could not touch,
just look, look, look.

B is for beer.
The pounding music, the nausea —
I could not take it
anymore and
my friend took me home.
The next day he
asks, “Dude, who’s Anne?”

C is for chemistry.
As badly as I want chemistry
to describe the atmosphere
between us, it could
not be.
Chemistry is just a class
we share. The test tubes
and cylinders are witnesses
tot the silent looks and
whispers I send his way.

D is for dance.
Her body is lithe,
her movements are soft
and delicate.
I wanted to hold her
every time she moves,
I don’t want her to
break.

E is for easy.
I do not want to be easy,
I do not want to run after him.
But I badly want to stop him in the
halls and say, “Stop. Look at me.
Even for a tiny moment, look at me”.