I don’t know if anyone else does this, and it really might be a cruel thing to do, but lately I’ve been just wanting to nuzzle myself into people just through brief little impact moments. Where it’s inconvenient but only for them. Making statements during the most subtle of times that occurs and reoccurs in our lives. Like abruptly kissing them just before a waiter reaches the table to take their order. Or bringing cherry popsicles along on a summer’s night walk. Or cooking some sort of delicious sweet every Sunday night. Apple pie, maybe. Introducing them to classical tracks that make your heart ache. Bringing them to pick up flowers at local markets and tucking it along their ear. I don’t know. Just because, if you ever lost that person for good, the foundations of those things would never cross their mind without you written all over them. They’d feel a pit in their stomach on a wonderful date as the waiter headed in their direction. Popsicles would bring them back to your sticky skin, and the dark night of heat. The smell of warm apple pie would place them back in the apartment you two shared, and all over again it’d be Sunday night. A pause in an elevator or market when Tchaikovsky begins to play and they’d hear you humming along with it. When they go to pick out flowers for their significant other’s anniversary, or birthday, and all they can think about is what you told them it meant, and your favorites, because not many people have such love for things like that.
I want people to remember me like this. Sudden lip-locks. The smell of Apple Pie. Tchaikovsky. Running bath water. Sweet skin and melting popsicles. Windows open. Unfinished books. Flowers. Down blankets.
I need them to remember me like that.
My working week and my Sunday rest -
W. H. Auden - Funeral Blues (via coyotegold)
Growing up I always thought true love was red roses, dates on Saturday nights, little block box that held expensive things, and always knowing what to say. I thought true love was a kiss in the rain, deep explanations, and the perfect story. But now that I’m older I’ve realized it’s not like that at all.
See because true love for me is ugly snapchats, and peeing while you’re on the phone. True love is kissing at 6 AM despite the morning breath and singing at the top of your lungs. It’s saying all the wrong things, at all the wrong moments. It’s sarcasm and being honest even when it hurts. It’s late hours of the night when it’s been a long day and it’s no make up and bad hair. It’s tears from laughter, it’s tears from sadness and it’s nothing like any storybook you’ve ever read. It’s never running out of things to talk about, and it’s being comfortable in the silence of things. True love is watching The Titanic though you swore you never would. It’s getting mad over stupid things. It’s “you’re an idiot,” and “you’re a little shit” and knowing you’re so lucky to hear those every day. It’s spilling your feelings at 4 AM when you should be asleep. It’s that song you hear on the radio that always makes you smile. It’s the worst story you could imagine, but thank God it worked out anyways. True love is never losing the magic. True love is not leaving when things get hard.
I like my definition better anyways.- Another Piece About You (via suchvodka)
so much more
than just to the moon
and back. - (via sensitizes)