ghostlybirds,

nobody fades at the edges quite like you

apartofsomethingelse:

afallingsky:

you told me about the time when you were seventeen and all your days were illustrated with haphazard ideas and they stretched lazily into incomplete distances. this was back when your eyes were open wider to take in everything that seemed to be becoming more and more beautiful. you said you felt things like they were fucking sonnets, those were your exact words fucking sonnets. then you put your hands against my head as if you could transfer the feeling, as if your ideas were circulating in your palms and i could catch them, pounding, in the drums of my ears. you asked if i understood so i said that i thought things were beautiful in the way that burning buildings were beautiful. it’s the same thing. did you know that your hands move a lot when you talk, i see your ideas shake and settle in changing patterns. now you tell me, gesticulating wildly, that when you close your eyes you have dreams where all your fingers turn into matchsticks so that it’s impossible for you not to destroy everything you touch. well i’ve only seen one burning building in my life. the timber frames cracked like breaking bones and fell without any precision. the smoke hung in the air, thick like fog, for two full days after. it’s the same thing. even your burning hands will tell you that. sometimes there’s nothing more bittersweet than to feel yourself disappearing.

Jesus Christ. I haven’t been more inspired to write in a long time.

Ahh wow thank you! I’m ten thousand times happy that anything I’ve written has inspired you. (and I’m sorry I’ve only just seen this, I’m completely terrible with catching up with things on here).

{Friday, February 5th 2010 7:32pm}

{Friday, February 5th 2010 11:47am}

52hearts asked: your writing is seriously amazing. <3 i don't remember how i found you but i'm glad i did. :)

:) thank you so much!

{Friday, February 5th 2010 11:45am}

map me out tonight

let’s love the tree that sings from it’s boughs and branches, it’s voice tingling in the twigs and sounding better than the stars. oh adore i love you more but only sometimes when there are too, too many clouds. fickle sun glare down on me, my indecisiveness plays with hearts like birds on strings. sometimes i laugh when people say they love me. please, please let me wrap your heart in sea-foam because a cage of fragile bones isn’t enough. breathing for a year makes your ribs move about 5 million times and you’re so tired, tired, tired already of the ivory colours of tricks and marrow. well i have never heard a tree fall, just seen the logs marched off in lines. and i’m sorry a million times over, i’ve read too many books so i can’t help but automatically decipher the mumbling thoughts behind your gossamer eyes.

{Friday, February 5th 2010 9:15am}

{Thursday, February 4th 2010 9:07pm}

{Thursday, February 4th 2010 8:14pm}

pale arms tip tap moonlight

i wanted words that were milky smooth and soft like ghosts. i wanted to swallow them all whole and feel lighter. see i love the invisible webs of spiders and the feather-light threads that make them fly. and i would choose invisibility a thousand times, i would gather myself up in their silver string. everyone i know would get collective, selective amnesia and i could stopstopstop thinking and only moon words would holler in the leftover space. sometimes i get invisible lungs. i remember once that i shrunk in the cinema when i saw a film that told one of my lonely secrets. he touched her foot on the big screen, it towered over everything and i stopped breathing. when i blinked i saw stars and the moon and all i wanted was the sky. do you get it? nothing and everything and then all over again. and i’ve told you, we have seen every long night that has been heavy with thoughts without acknowledging the difference between the volume of voices. sometimes i feel them drip down my throat and catch as conversations i will never have. sometimes i get invisible lungs so i can’t breathe sound into all my favourite words. but i hear your lungs, they inflate like balloons. you said you had a dream of charlotte but her web was blue. she said to speak soft like spiders and then she was gone and the threads of her home merged in with the sky. i told you that i like it when you yell because then it feels like the words are orbiting around my head and echoing in the shells of my ears. i pressed my ear against yours so you could listen and our thoughts were heard like waves from the oceans. and the waves of your thoughts roared so that when i pulled away sea water dripped from the curves of our pale pink earlobes.

{Thursday, February 4th 2010 7:55pm}