Her life is a letter of cut up newspapers

and magazines with no return address

she lives in an open wound

where all her thoughts come true

the rose colored glasses

she has fixed upon her face have shattered

and those lost eyes never come any closer

to finding a home

she wanders in endless fields of self-proclaimed bliss

such wonderous stories for such a heavy, heavy heart;

she hates to breathe yet lives to hurt

a glare from her hazel windows

shines into all the other rooms

until they can’t be ignored

that constant push and pull between love

and the sheets has left her empty yet hungry for the silence

but she’ll trade for the droplets that

fall while those weathered cotton strings

woven ever so tightly together

becoming less and less constricting with every passing second

she rarely gave out her name and when she did

it was annonymously signed on the coldest shoulder in 4 lines red

mouthing out the words she wants to say into another pair of lips;

trying explain the things that make her unhappy

she found it easiest to speak when she wasn’t able to

a scar is everything she ever wanted

so she’d have something to hold onto

but she never went deep enough to forge a connection

she’ll wander in that field long enough

until a rose bud steals her attention

like a hard clap in an empty hall,

an echo magnetic for failure is all she knows

its incredible what a heartbeat can do to a life

(via curvesandconfidence)

lulz-time:

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lulz-time:

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lulz-time:

cancerously:

Nailed it.

Via/Follow The Absolute Greatest Posts…ever.

(via plussizefanatic)

(via curvesandconfidence)

Who said I cant pull off a mean bulge?