tigerlily

I hope that someday, somebody wants to hold you for twenty minutes straight, and that’s all they do. They don’t pull away. They don’t look at your face. They don’t try to kiss you. All they do is wrap you up in their arms, without an ounce of selfishness in it.

— Jenna, Waitress (via hplyrikz)

(via hplyrikz)

I want your Monday morning sleep soaked eyes, dream drenched voice, lazy bones ‘five more minutes please babe.’

I want your Tuesday afternoon stretching break, glasses off, laughter on, ‘just hold me for a while, it’s been a hard day.’

I want your Wednesday evening fingers through you hair, teeth biting nails, neck extended, eye glazing, ‘this paperwork never ends’

I want your Thursday night wine for two, bones unbind, muscles let loose, flats, slacks, ‘just me and you’

I want your finally Friday full soul smile, sun sipping light from the glaciers in your eyes, fingers unfurl, hand extends, ‘come on babe, lets go wild’

I want your weekend, your movie marathon Saturday, reading by the fireplace, making love in the blankets 
I want your Sunday morning orange juice and cereal with blueberries, white sheets, tender skin, hair so friendly it’s standing up waving, ‘let’s not get out of bed today.’

I want your ordinary and your stress, rest, release I want your bad day and that terrible night
I want you drunk in my arms forgetting the place but never my name

I want your lazy and your lonely and your fist full of fight
I want you everyday in every way for the rest of my life.
I want forever as partners, husband and wife.
I want our love to always come first.
I’m yours on bended knees.

— mardybryant (via wnq-writers)

(via lolcarolineee)

I still haven’t asked you
how freedom tastes like. But seeing you dancing
with your tipsy feet and sour breath, I need not ask.
Let me tell you this. Drink now until
you end up peeing all night.
Drink now until you start asking strangers
for your name. Pretend you know the way home.
Tell your girl bestfriend she’s a slut
and pretend you mean it. Tell her
she looks hot on that borrowed dress
but it’s getting late.

Baby, see that guy at the corner
holding his guitar? Look at him
but don’t let him catch you taking glances.
He’s the one who sings songs of praises
and kneels before the god
you used to worshiped. Just like a saint
he serenades you but your mother
already warned you about boys like him.
He’s the one standing at the altar
praying for big butts and tight cleavage.
He takes you to a dark room
where the only light you see is him.
Don’t be deceived. He’s a monster with wings
and he will dance with you until you become
his monster too.

It’s getting later now. Watch your friends
swim on the beach with their naked bodies
where only the moonlight and the sea know
where they are hiding their scars. Tonight,
you are celebrating the beauty of youth.
You’ll never be this young and free
and you’ll never be this stupid.
Have fun being called naive because this
is the only time that you are allowed to be.
When you reach the age of twenty, stupidity
becomes a crime. Sadly, you’re not learning.
Baby, you’ve done so many things
and you’ve said nothing. Why is it
after all this time the words ‘take care’
wake you up in your sleep?

Today you’re seventeen
and it feels good. For the first time
you’ve learned how to fold your own garments,
make up your bed and wake up
without the help of an alarm clock.
This is going to be the most tiring year
of your life because you’re busy thinking
of the comforts you might have when you grow up.
But believe me, you’re wrong again.
You think that boy who looks exactly
like Edward Cullen suits you? Suck
my anemic blood and wake up!
You are not Bella and this is no twilight.
This is the dawn of your dreams
and you’re about to turn it
into a night of terrors.

Baby, you regret a lot.
But you are always right about
chasing after love. That boy with dirty hair.
That boy will dive in your veins
and you would want to slash your wrist
just to see him flow out of you. Look at him
and feel his chapped lips. His lips
have been dried up on purpose just so
you can peel each skin like turning pages
of your most awaited novel.
You make your mother cry.
You disobey her. She says,
don’t let him take it. Don’t let him take
your lips like he’s just taking a sip
of a wine preserved for a long time.
You say, fuck being a wine.
It’s not everyday you can pour yourself
into a golden goblet who will make you feel
full everytime, who will never let you become emptied,
who will take you for the right reasons
and won’t allow you to spill and spoil.

— irishjulienne, to my seventeen year old self (via epionne)

(via weedinyou)

Wake up early. Do not check your phone. Have a shower, wash your hair and use your favorite perfume. Only apply minimal makeup, look at yourself in the mirror, and remember - you are beautiful. Do not think of him. Put on something pretty and comfortable, have a healthy breakfast, walk outside barefoot. Do not wonder what he is doing. Go for a run and love how strong you feel. Dance. Do not check your phone. Go shopping, buy that deep red lipstick you love but were too scared to buy. Pick yourself flowers. You don’t need him. Be reminded of how happy you can be by yourself. Do not think of him. If you are lonely, call an old friend. Light some candles. Love yourself. You are okay, you are beautiful, you do not need him. Life is good.

— jg, I just really needed to write this (via autumnramblings)

(via autumnramblings)

I was prepared for words that cut like knives and phrases shot like bullets from the barrel of a gun. But I wasn’t prepared for you, with soft words and quiet smiles and laugh lines I wanted to smooth with light fingertips. I didn’t know I could cut myself on rounded edges because it wasn’t what you said. It was you. You were the bullet.

— H.L. // excerpt from a book I’ll never write #16 // I guess that makes me the target (via 451seconds)

(via lolcarolineee)

At first, it begins with distance. The kind where his body is with you but his mind isn’t. The doubts start to creep into your head, but you quickly dismiss them.
He’s just tired, you’ll think.
He’s just been really stressed.

It’s when “Good morning beautiful” becomes “morning”, or nothing at all. He’ll stop wondering about your weekend plans, and when you ask him about his day he’ll leave it at “pretty good”.

It’s when he becomes cold, uncaring. His mouth starts to taste like lies, and his touches start to feel like routine. He’ll go from being distracted by your eyes, to being distracted by his thoughts.

It’s when 3am phone calls become 3am fights. It’s when staying up all night because of his words becomes a bad thing.

It’s, who is she?
and, why didn’t you tell me?

But most of all, it’s when you have to ask yourself this question in the first place.

— “How do I know when I’ve lost him?” (via her-minds-a-mess)

(via lolcarolineee)