23, and not quite sure of things.

I like the sound of footsteps on gravel, and waking up to rain.
theoceaniswonderful:

IMG_4455-web by Andy Reefdweller

exulansis

dictionaryofobscuresorrows:

n. the tendency to give up trying to talk about an experience because people are unable to relate to it—whether through envy or pity or simple foreignness—which allows it to drift away from the rest of your life story, until the memory itself feels out of place, almost mythical, wandering restlessly in the fog, no longer even looking for a place to land.

"

I am in love with a boy
who ripped me apart
to keep himself warm.

We open ourselves like thick oak doorways,
draw out the welcome mats
with years of dust and dirt ingrained.
My eyes are windows,
he pulls the shades shut.
Everyone carries around something
ancient baggage
but my hands are cracked and swollen
from the weight.

Silly women
are always working so hard
at lessening themselves.
Silly men
are always working so hard
at owning them.

But I was not unlocked.
My name was never ‘Home’.

"

Michelle K., He Named Me ‘Home’. (via michellekpoems)

(via sharewithcheryl)