"saw you at a party shirtless drinking wine and i wanted you so bad i could taste it. i did the whole pretty woman thing where i wouldnt kiss you on the mouth at first but then one night i came over and kissed you so hard and i heard you moan my name through the cracks in your teeth. i dont think i will ever get over you."
The best kind of relationship is when you don’t have to tell each other how you feel all the time. Like, you can last a day or two without talking to each other and yet, nothing will change about the way you feel.
Too many men look at me like I owe them something, like the word ‘beautiful’ should mean something to me just because that’s how they choose to describe me. Too many men think that the black heels I wear to the grocery store is my way of saying, “Look at my legs. Do you like the way my dress hugs my curves?” When the truth is I just got off work and need some fucking beer and bread. Don’t look at me like that, the only reason my lips are painted red is because I ran out of Chapstick and this was the only thing I could find in my car.
I once dated a man who said that for Valentine’s Day all he wanted was me in red lace. He said that I would taste like chocolate, that he wanted to show me just how good love can feel. He talked like his sex skills were the best gift he could give me. I wore black lace and showed him how it feels to be fucked harder than the night he lost his virginity to a stripper. He said I tasted like mystery and black coffee as he got down on his knees to find his boxers. He said he couldn’t find the taste of chocolate on my neck. That was the morning he realized that being a man had nothing to do with ‘how hard you can fuck’. If that was the case, I would be ten foot tall and bullet proof and one hell of a guy with nice boobs.
One time I fell into the arms of a drunk man who claimed that he loved me afterwards. He called me a bitch when I said I just wanted to be his friend. I told him if me giving him my friendship made me a bitch then me giving him my heart would make me a cunt from hell. That was the day I stopped kissing boys who had to prove that they were men and started holding hands with men who didn’t realize they turned heads when they walked by.
Love rests in the heart and is spilled from your throat.
Lust rests in your pants and prefers to not ask for a name.
One day those men will realize that sincere, kind words
are the way to a woman’s heart, not a good fucking.
One day those men will realize that their Adam’s apple
is the forbidden fruit,
not their dick.
— when he asks what drawer you keep your lingerie in//d.a.h
Anonymous said: Gusto kong maging magaling katulad nila. Kaso hindi ko magawa.
ikaw ba yung anon na laging nagsesend sakin ng mga ganitong messages? sa totoo lang nalulungkot na ako. kasi lagi nalang ganito mga messages na natatanggap ko.
"ang taba ko."
“hindi ako maganda”
“wala akong self confidence”
“hindi ako matalino”
“hindi ako katulad ng iba”
nakaka stress na rin minsan kasi pakiramdam ko kahit anong sabihin ko sayo hindi ko mababago isip mo.
I decided to be a gentle person because this world is already cruel. I don’t want to be cruel. I want to be soft and I want to give comfort whenever I can. After all, I still believe in kindness.
Anonymous said: Hi po. ;) I'd like to ask for suggestions hihi if it's fine with you. You see, we're planning to publish a magazine themed about loyalty. The question is, can u suggest any great topics to write that acquires eagerness for the readers to read? Something more interesting? Thank youuu btw ☺️
love will always catch the attention of teenagers. but i honestly think that it will be better to talk about something new.
i am honestly interested about comfy bedrooms, country songs and indie music. or, or please write about celebrities who are really nice, articles about random act of kindness aaand articles about helping people who are having a hard time/life.
"This is not what the door’s for—slamming
you up against, opening
your legs with my knee. And it isn’t
leaving, the thing I keep doing
with my shoes still on, or in the car
in the driveway in broad
daylight after waving
goodbye to your neighbors
again. But my body’s a bad
dog, all dumb tongue
and hunger, down
on all fours again, tied up
outside again, coming
when called but then always refusing
to stay. I know what I’m trying
to say, but it isn’t
talking, the thing that I do with my mouth
to your ear, even though
we got the orifices right. To leave
I would have to put clothes on,
and they’d have to fit better
than all of this skin. To leave
I would have to know where to begin:
like this, pressed up
against the half-open window? Like
this, with my foot on the gas? If seeing
is believing then why isn’t touching
knowing for sure? I just want my nerves
to do the work for me, I don’t want
to have to decide. There’s blood in my hands
for fight and blood in my legs
for flight and nowhere
a sign. Believe me, I’ll leave if you just
let me touch you again for the last
— Ali Shapiro, “I Keep Trying to Leave You but the Sex Just Gets Better and Better” (via contramonte)
one day, we will all learn how to be brave. one day, we will all be able to fight our demons.
isang araw, ayos na ayos kayo. tapos kinabukasan, parang hindi mo na kilala yung taong minahal mo. ganun talaga, kapag wala ng dahilan para humawak ka, bumitaw ka na. masakit pero dadating din yung araw na hindi mo namamalayan, ayos ka na ulit.
"There is nothing special about me.
I am not a cup of tea or coffee
every Sunday morning.
I am not the same as your thoughts
when it’s Friday while you’re on your way home.
I am a Monday morning,
my skin cracks every night
while everybody else is asleep or having sex.
I am an awkward sadness
and a desperate apology letter.
Loving me will always be a disaster,
my skin is muffled by dark clouds and loud a thunder.
There is nothing special about falling in love
with a storm who can easily destroy everything,
You have the right to be lonely.
If you feel like you’re not worthy, it’s okay.
If you feel like you’re a shitty person, honey that’s alright.
You have the right to feel sorry about yourself,
you have the right to feel sad about your failures;
because you’re human.
If you feel like you need to mourn every morning
because you lost yourself along the way,
go ahead and cry.
If you feel like you need to break your ribs
to find good reasons to bring them back in their proper places,
go ahead and rip your skin apart and remove your bones
one by one.
Don’t forget to tell yourself that you’re entitled of your own feelings.
But since you’re allowed to be sad,
Do yourself a favor.
Allow yourself to be happy.
Allow yourself to cry because of laughing so hard.
Allow yourself to stay up late at night watching your favorite movies.
Allow yourself to get drowned with the happiest emotions that you
Allow yourself to fall in love with yourself more and more,
"He didn’t hold my hand during our first date. And it was alright.
He didn’t hold my hand when we crossed the street that night, but still, it was alright.
He kept looking at my hands the other day and said,
“your hands are too small for mine. I never held them because I was afraid that I might crush them.
I was afraid of holding your hands because I might not let go.”
After a few minutes of not talking, he asked me:
“Anyway, can I hold them?”"
— the first time we held hands // melody c. (via pakalmot)
hello. it’s 3 am right now and i hope that you are currently healing and you’re on your way to get better. i hope that your 3 am today belongs to you and you alone. do not give this hour to your demons, you pretty flower.
you will learn how to forgive but you will find it hard to forget. and then you will meet someone you will forgive without saying anything to you yet.