keciasamethystheart:

You like to fill my head has been full of filth. Creepy crawly desires that burn already scorching flesh.

I’m flame retardant. If you are wondering why I have not caught fire, or crumbled to cinders yet. I am asbestos, clinging to the wood frame of this sweltering summer building. My frame…

thepaintedcanvas:

What is ignorance?
Well, I don’t know a lot of things.
It’s not knowing, right??

A writers journal is the place a writer turns to understand themselves in ways seldom shared with others. #Writers #Journals #Poetry (Taken with instagram)

Alone again.
The sentiments the same —
I’m writing the same poem again.

Same sad lines. Same hurt.
Same bitter taste reading over
the poems I’ve wrote.

Stupid little love notes. Dirty
photos I dare not post;
silly secrets I’ve sworn to hold close.

Stupid me. Stupid not
to see what was in plain sight.

Stupid me to never get it right.

—P—
@pisforCLC

Dream big.

Lmao #Instagram gold

Wake up.

This ain’t a throwback, it’s a relapse.

K(Dot) Radio #Winning (Do people still say “winning”? Fyck it, I said it)

Breakfast view.

I close my eyes.

As our hands intertwine
I sense her heart throbbing
through her fingertips —
or is that mine? Who really knows
when you’re this close.
The hours are depleting; another
few minutes and we’ll say
our goodbyes, but for now we’ll
lay here engulfed in one
another’s embrace — palms,
arms, legs, and affection.

She burrows her face into the
cove separating my head and shoulder.
I trace the goosebumps
down her spine like connect-
-the-dots, and kiss her face until
she becomes annoyed by the
notion of me leaving.
Here we are, and still so hard
to believe at times —
Happy. Satisfied, and still
hungry for more.
She breaths in deep as I sigh.
I open my eyes to insure I’m
not dreaming —
and to think I almost stopped
believing.

To think you were here
the entire time, waiting
for me to speak up. To think
I finally found you as I’m leaving.
To think that all this time,
the glow in your eyes, or the
twilight within your smile
was meant for me, or
that these butterflies stirring
in my chest have always
been there, but have come alive
yearning to be freed.
It’s just so hard to believe..

..and to think of all the times
I let you pass me by,
I bit my tongue,
or succumbed to nerves..

I just can’t help but smile —
now that I’m yours.

—P—
@PisforCLC

Up..up..up..#miamibound