OH MY GOSH HE LOOKS SO HAPPY
(Source: doctor-mambo, via vivalacheapthrills)
(Source: Flickr / sheenajibson, via tkdsac)
You are a lovely loss…
I used to build houses with you. We would take out the hammers and nails and burn the bridges between us until all we could do was swim across. I got so used to the cold water that I started to grow fins. Sometimes it was easy to face the rapids and make it across, where your open arms would always find me, yet I know you better.
The thing about us was that you never swam. I was the one who spent the time cutting down trees and putting up that road so you could walk across and your highness could be sure to not get your feet wet. Pretty words and a pretty face, yet when it came down to actually having to work to make it better, you were at a loss. It was a lovely loss, one that came easily.
I’m not sure when I realized when I was losing you. I saw in your eyes this sense of resignation. You did not fight and you did not try to swim, and after awhile I stopped swimming and the gills that had formed got lost in the water and I stopped enjoying the cold on the way across. You had a match out that night, brought to your lips and whispering in the infinities, and the cacophonies of the dark brought you through one bowl and then another until your pupils broke against the surface of the water and you dropped your lighter on the remaining bridge.
That was the last time I saw you.
inevitability.
The sun will rise. The tides will flow. The winds will blow.
I will love; it’s the inevitable truth. This love shall spirit me away in a single, sweeping current. It will drown me, and it’s sweet, warm essence will fill my lungs and drive out all but love. This love may take me to another world; some special, uncharted territory. It may be a dark place, with danger lurking; love may wound me fatally. I may sacrifice everything, including my life. But I will not return to the life before love; my arms are too weak and my soul too fragile to fight against the ancient current of passion.
I must go with the flow.
For, what does a writer have if not passion; if not love? Such is a chef without an appetite; a photographer without a lens.
There has to come a point when a person realizes when they are no longer a priority. They no longer cross the mind of the one person that never leaves theirs. At this point, how do you walk away? How can you pack up all the history, all the memories, and just leave? Some people it takes a severe blow to the heart to do. Some people, it’s as simple as a text message. Either way, there isn’t a way to escape without feeling like you’ve lost everything you wanted. Everything you had been searching for has now slipped through your fingers, like holding water. All I need is a sign. Small, epic, I don’t care. I just want a sign to show me that my fighting is worth it and there isn’t something wrong with me that keeps me from possessing the one thing I want. And that’s you. I haven’t lost you because I’ve never owned you. No person can own a soul and sure as hell can’t own one as wild as yours. But in the end my love. When you lay yourself down to sleep, who’s the last person you think of? Who’s the last person who invested in your soul?
CBM Photography :)
This is an elderly man who lives in my town. His wife died back in 2008. And every single day since then he has visited her at the graveyard. No matter if it is raining, thunder storming, snowing or sunny, he brings a lawn chair with him and flowers and sits down by her grave for multiple hours of the day. 365 days a year you can find him out there. It would mean the world to me if everyone could get his story out there, to let people know, true love does exist and last.
(via vivalacheapthrills)
