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One Night Stands.

A friend of mine once told me that I’d like sex, because it’s seeing the one side of someone that’s secret.

And it scares me.

Other than worrying about STDs, getting pregnant, etc. 


It’s the part of the night when you’re completely naked with each other. And not uncomfortable about it either, because you’ve seen or touched everything already.

And moments ago, you were completely dressed. Talking about where you’re from and what you do. Making small talk and mindless conversation. 


That was what scared me about Mr. Diplomat. How his boring, flat self could turn around 180 degrees with the wit and charm. How his guarded, unseductive self could unwrap himself into this suave lover. 

And the eagerness with which he held me- I mean, held my hand, held me in his arms. 

The secrets people tell you. And the compliments they give with such sincerity.

i’ve never met anyone like you

you’re so beautiful

strange and wonderful, all at once. 

And sleeping with someone’s arms around you, begging you not to put your clothes on, begging you to let them hold you a little longer, trapping you to their body.

I remember very little of the sex.

It’s these shapes and words that stay with me. The shape of his adam’s apple and I saw it from under his chin. The smooth way that his limbs connected to the rest of his body. Feeling someone’s heart beat.

Having sex in the morning. In the sunlight. With someone you’ve just met.

Showering together and taking turns under the hot water. I remember running my fingers through his hair, watching the bubbles disappear and clear. Imagining his face as a babe as he stood so helplessly, melting in my hands.


It’s a dull pain and bright fascination as I think about this person. This figment of my imagination, hardly real at all - out there somewhere in the world. 



(Source: valleyg0th)

Raisins in Winter

As you slid off my wet socks, 
I felt the hairs of your arm
Brush my smooth, white ankles

You laid them lovingly;
a newlywed couple exhausted
On a nuptial night. Against the fireplace
My face burned from the heat
but my body shivered from 
my cold, naked feet
Your hands in my pockets
discovered a red box of raisins,
ripe and ready to be eaten. 
My mouth parted slightly open
I licked my pink winter-dried lips
and you stroke the bottom one
My mouth parted slightly open
You picked up a raisin
Gently placing it past the doors of my teeth
Your raisins stole inside, 
Its sweet taste savored in my salivating
Mouth parted slightly open
I stayed silent as you pushed further inside
The tips of your fingers
touching my tongue as you placed
them now- my mouth opened wide.
I let you come inside, 
Hungry for raisins in wintertime. 

(Source: http)



dear vampire

You never hear about what happens when the affair’s over. When the vampire has chosen not to bite the lover, when he goes away and she is saved - what happens next?

Maybe she lives like me. Mastering the crane in yoga class, reading Hesse novels and going out on weekends to party with French boys. Perhaps, she’s overall fine and even, better and happier and healthier because you know, she doesn’t have this brooding man of the night in her life. 

She has washed the sheets so that they no longer smell like him and meets other men that she can think of at night instead of him anyways. They are nice. They offer to bring medicine when she’s sick and give her their coats when she’s cold and miraculously, she’s somehow less sick and less cold than he was around. She had almost forgotten what it’s like to be kissed sober. 

Surprisingly, she’s not even bitter or scarred. Just simply happy and moving on with her life. 

She still thinks they could be friends. You know, send a text message, shoot an email with a smiley face and just catch up like merry strangers. She was never one for burning bridges. Besides, she likes to believe things have meaning. That the click and connection and chemistry are still significant even if undefined. 

But sometimes, just sometimes, when she’s listening to Bach or checking the times for the Independent theater near her house or reading something exciting in the newspaper and there’s a new idea or new feeling, she remembers the friend she shared those things with. And on rare lonely night. she remembers his breath on skin, him pulling her closer - the moments when he desired her the most and the pangs of pain that followed afterwards. Anyways, she reprimands herself for being sentimental, reminds herself to be stronger and folds those feelings into the white rectangular box of a screen. It always did make her feel better to type those black words out of existence.  

Morning comes. It always does and she, like I, opens the window and lets the sunshine in. 

It’s bright and clean and pure. I hope one day, we can enjoy it together. 



Memoirs of a Book Unread

You eyed me and

Thumbed your dirty hands

In my white, crisp pages

Stared deep into

My small 12 font black inked eyes

You touched me and 

Pressed me for a moment

Against your chest

So close, I felt your sweat on

My ignored, unexplored body

You hungered for me and 

Sampled my potential

Between your insatiable lips

I could just taste.   

My starvation to give

You left me and

Picked up another

Into the same hands

I had been promised.

My words unspoken still.



attention single, emotionally stable men-


i am single

that is all.



new blog

tumblr’s so much better but it was wayy  too private. ill write really secret stuff here <3



Dear friend (unedited)

I wish I were a stronger person so this wouldn’t hurt me, but instead I’m an honest person, so I’m going to say all these words that will go left unsaid.

While I am distrustful, I am also naive.

And what makes this different is, that I really trusted you and believed you cared about me.

Do you know what I would have done if the situation were reversed? Do you know how kind I would have been? I would have waited, I would have waited for you to get over it. I would have been more considerate, more thoughtful, more of a friend. 


I would have lied to the end. Do you know what a slap in the face it was for you to tell me that you weren’t sorry? That all of that was a show of pity, not of apology. And that you didn’t mean it when you called her bipolar and said you didn’t care about her? That you were actually in love with her? And you said that because you didn’t want to upset me?  Do you know how that feels? Don’t lie to yourself, you said it to save your ass; not to protect me. 

Must be really great for her, to not know about those words and about my existence. Or maybe you use it as a marker of validation or some shit like that. 


You call ME manipulative and selfish; when you’re memorizing the book of manipulations? I was so stupidly sincere. I was so honest about everything. And despite everything, I would have loved you in the same sincere and honest way. Lesson learned - everyone wants the games. 

The most stupid thing of all is that, even now; i just want things to be the same - when things were easy and fun. 

But every relationship requires two people and I can’t meet you halfway if you’re not there. Hey, was the hurt one. I’m willing to move on and fake it til its true. 



it hurts so much

maybe people are right. the more you hook up with someone, the more attached you get to them - or maybe it’s true for me since i was such a prude.

it hurts so much i can’t understand. for most of the day, im okay. i go to the gym, read, meet people and life’s a new and bustling. but even then, there’s some dull pain i just go on ignoring. it’s so pathetic and disgusting that i’m grossed out by myself.

and for some reason, i can’t stop thinking about her. and how he could love someone else, about how he can’t love me, about how despite everything i still want to be with him.

and how, because we didn’t have sex it can mean nothing nothing to him and he can go on with his life acting like he didnt scar me at all. but he did, he ripped out something whole.

it wasn’t the hooking up. it was the manipulation, the games, the lying. that’s what hurt me. 

so now that i know he’s an asshole, these feelings should just go away, right?



Anonymous said: When is your birthday?

May 9th?