First holiday casualty.
Sara. 21. Drama student at NYU. From Philadelphia. Likes sentence fragments.
Last.fm/Facebook/Photos I've Taken
Lately I’ve been thinking about who I want to love, and how I want to love, and why I want to love the way I want to love, and what I need to learn to love that way, and who I need to become to become the kind of love I want to be…and when I break it all down, when I whittle it into a single breath, it essentially comes out like this: Before I die, I want to be somebody’s favorite hiding place, the place they can put everything they know they need to survive, every secret, every solitude, every nervous prayer, and be absolutely certain I will keep it safe. I will keep it safe.
Morning in Hoboken.
“First thought, best thought.”
Arctic Monkeys - Arabella
Just might have tapped into your mind and soul
You can’t be sure
The mustache has made him much more contemplative.
I don’t mind the weather
I’ve got scarves and caps and sweaters
I think of happy when I think of you
so wherever you are I hope you’re happy
I really do
I hope the stars are kissing your cheeks tonight
I hope you finally found a way to quit smoking
I hope your lungs are open and breathing your life
I hope there’s a kite in your hand
that’s flying all the way up to Orion
and you still got a thousand yards of string to let out
I hope you’re smiling
like god is pulling at the corners of your mouth
cause I might be naked and lonely
shaking branches for bones
but I’m still time zones away
from who I was the day before we met.
Things that happen backstage.
(They lock eyes, hoping the other will say something perfect. They keep waiting.)
Fall nights in Hoboken under the single working strand of Christmas lights.
I want to write something about you that’s full of imagery and literary devices but I feel like I’ve forgotten how to do that. My creativity is like the words that won’t come out of my mouth and like my mouth when it stops just below your chin. “This is how you keep me in bed,” you said on Saturday as I ran my thumb across your cheek, but eventually I stopped and we left your apartment.