Now Playing Tracks

I know better now, and so I am trying to do better. It is painful because the old ways are so comfortable but I know in my heart that pain is the only thing that will bloom if I go backwards and plant the same seeds I always did.

I want to feel the sun kiss my skin, and watch the light grow inside of me. So yes, I know better, and yes I will try to do better. I will trust that this uncomfortable feeling will fade into peace, and I will be one step closer to being free in me.

I am letting go of many things, thoughts, feelings, and people that have weighed me down until the water filled my lungs. I am learning how to breathe again without them, and it feels bittersweet but I know this is what is right for me.

I won’t explain or justify myself to anyone. I will live out my life with joy, with peace, with honesty, and I will not let anything unravel me again.

This is my story, and beautiful things will be written in each page. The light will soak into my words, and I will come alive in each chapter. No more holding back. No more pleasing you. No more making myself small to make you more. I am here, and I am going to take up space. I am going to live.

Dele Olanubi (via bealightinthedark)
This is for the ache in your chest
You only look at when everyone else is asleep.
For shaking hands in the dark
When you take them to your ribcage and pry it open,
Looking for the soft parts.
This is for how home stopped feeling like home
And started feeling like closed doors
And too many walls.
For how sometimes you look at the horizon
And think that if you started running now
You would never be able to make yourself stop.
.
I cannot be your strong northern wind and
I cannot stop the darkness when it finds you.
But I will hold your weary hands
And sit with you through the storm.
I am no wiseman; I have no sagely words of advice.
But I will curl up beside you
And ache with you.
I will soak up your tears in the hem of my shirt.
I will be there, behind you, to help you keep balance
Until your legs are strong enough
That you can stand all on your own.
This Is For You, by Ashe Vernon (via latenightcornerstore)
I didn’t love him.
I barely liked him.
But he was heat at the peak of summer,
and he kissed like I was his last meal—
And I was looking for a body to drown in.
Back then, I had a candy-coated heart,
like flowers tucked in the pages of a hymnal,
and he had the thick, calloused hands
of a working man.
He talked like a friend,
but touched like an animal
and my bubblegum chest wanted that
in ways it couldn’t understand yet.
He asked what colors I kissed in
and the poet in me cracked open and spilled over—
Exposed like an open wound,
like all the soft, pink parts of me
I didn’t know about.
He was a means to an end:
my Machiavellian loss of innocence.
I don’t regret him,
but sometimes I wish I did.
First, by Ashe Vernon (via latenightcornerstore)
This is the first trumpet to sound in an empty concert hall.
It’s rain against a window that’s always let a little water in.
This is for the words you wished you could pull back inside you,
but more than that,
it’s for the words you never let out.
.
This is a story of survival.
It is your story,
even when you feel like that word
does not belong to you.
.
This is a love song for your clumsy heart,
and all the times it sank into arms
that were too small for it.
For the mornings when getting out of bed
was the hardest thing you did all day.
This is a ballad of frightened breaths
in a mason jar on the bedside table.
.
I know—
You are not trying to move mountains.
You are not trying to brush shoulders with the universe.
All you want is enough room in your own chest
for a pair of lungs that hasn’t felt like yours in years.
.
So this is a reminder,
that—aside from everything else—
you are still here,
and you are still breathing.
And maybe you don’t always want to be.
And that’s what makes everything you are
so brave.
.
You have a small ocean inside of you;
You have the breath of a country in your lungs;
Your heart beats in time to the turn of the planet,
and you
are a force of nature
simply for making this far.
.
This is an “I love you.”
This is tucking you in at night.
This is a drumbeat, welcoming you home from war.
You are a white-knuckled miracle.
And you don’t have to fight anymore.
Survival, by Ashe Vernon (via latenightcornerstore)
To Tumblr, Love Pixel Union