Lottie's the name.
These are my thoughts.
The Infinite Capacities of the Mind.
She told him she wasn’t a bird
But she tried to to fly away
He captured her with his force of mind
But then set her free out of her bind
They’re down on their knees
for the love of their pleas.
They met at every bridge of the night
but not just to fight
To rip each other’s souls apart
and then piece them back together
mixing up the jigsaw in between
so bits of each puzzle remained in the other.
Rum cocos, add a little bit of loco
Stories for her, stories for him
Out on a whim of the verandah
The lighting’s dim
but she’s colored in his bright grin
While he drinks his gin
He grabs her hand as she’s breaking down
and that’s the click:
During a time when it was hard
to notice anything outside of their selves
they found and noticed each other.
// inspired by Tennessee Williams’ The Night of the Iguana
— Lizzy hahahaha
1. my age doesn’t matter,
but I am old enough to drive, vote, and fall in love.
I am old enough to have a job, go to at least two other countries, and know what it means to lay in bed
night after night after night
because I know the depth of the word
2. my name doesn’t matter,
but I am told that it means worthy of love.
and I don’t know if that phrase is directed towards me,
or if it is the way I am supposed to speak about others,
as if they are worthy of love.
And I believe you are,
you know, worthy of it,
in every sense of it.
the family love, the friend love, the deep, messy romantic love.
all of it.
3. I have a handful of friends,
but a heart full of people I consider more than that.
I don’t really have a label for all of them,
some are my soulmates
in the sense that they changed my life,
some are the loves of my life
in a sense that I do not know any form of love deeper than what I feel for them,
some are my heros
in a sense that they have saved my life
over and under and in between all the
4. I have not created anything grand,
I have not sculpted a masterpiece,
or painted the sky a brilliant way,
nor have I ever created any tangible form of beauty,
but I hope to.
I hope to create with my hands
and build up all the things that I have attempted to tear down.
I hope to love with a force that is indescribable
and cannot just be admired with the human eye,
but with every sense.
5. This isn’t necessarily as much about me,
as it is about you,
but I have been broken,
shattered into such tiny pieces of broken glass,
that I became dust on my walls.
And the way I looked in my moments of utter loss,
is the way you look when you are trying to tear down the remnants of that person that you so desperately want to be.
You don’t have to lose yourself to find yourself,
don’t you dare believe that lie.
You don’t have to break someone else,
to know what it means to be put back together.
It’s going to be
— when someone holds a gun to your head, grab their hand and put it to your heart, and whisper, “can you feel it beating?” over and over again (via amandaspoetry)
three & four
— F.Scott Fitzgerald
My mind is elsewhere
It’s here and then it’s there
Anywhere but here.
I’m at Target
They don’t have what I want
I don’t know what I want
The chase is never gone from the haunt
I’ve been studying my whole life
But the point of the search
Is never found in the answers
There’s no end so why call it
The Valet tried to give my cousin a rose for Mother’s Day and my Aunt goes “Don’t give her that. She’s not a mother….yet. We don’t know yet. We’re waiting on the results”
Hahahahah and she goes Sorry that’s just a little bit of my mom humor…