"I’m almost never serious, and I’m always too serious. Too deep, too shallow. Too sensitive, too cold hearted. I’m like a collection of paradoxes."
(Source: atomiclanterns)
"Don’t fall in love with a curious one.
They will want to know who you are, where you come from, what your family was like.
They will look through your photographs and read all of your poems. They will come over for dinner and speak to your mother about how their curiosity has taught them things of use to her. They will ask you to rant when you’re angry and cry when you’re hurt.
They will ask what that raised eyebrow meant. They will want to know your favorite food, your favorite color, you favorite person. They will ask why.
They will buy that camera you liked, pay attention to that band you love in case there’s a show near by, they will get you the sweater you smiled at once. They’ll learn to cook your favorite meals.
The curious people don’t settle for your shell, they want the insides.
They want what makes you heavy, what makes you uneasy, what makes you scream
for joy, and anger, and heartbreak.
Their skin will turn into pages
that you learn to pour out your entire being in.
Don’t fall in love with the curious one.
They won’t let a sigh go unexplained.
They will want to know what they did
Exactly what they did to make you love them.
Year, month, week, day.
“What time was it? What did I say? What did I do?
How did you feel?”
Don’t fall in love with a curious one because I’ve been there.
They will unbutton your shirt
and read every scar
every mark
every curve.
They will dissect your every limb, every organ, every thought, every being
then walk back home and eat their dinner and never return your calls.
You will never be their lifelong expedition. The heart is a mystery only for so long.
There is no ache like loving a curious one
who chases every falling star and never catching one.
Who comes and sees and conquers
and leaves.
I’ve fallen in love with a curious one.
Maybe one day he will take the train back home
and be curious enough to read one last message from me
carved on a seat.
as effortlessly as you’ve moved me for years."
Fox
Her scarlet lipstick left stains on the glass and her eyeliner smudges masked her exhaustion,
As she kept one eye one the melting ice and one eye on the door,
She had one hand on her purse and one foot out the door.
Love was cheap and drinks were free as they circled her and stared.
With her mind numbly occupied, she somehow forgot to care.
One by one they paraded,
And one by one serenaded by her sharp tongue and quick wit,
Each got a glimpse of what they’d never get.
She’d stare them down one by one, and just that fast they’d fall,
Boys like toys just at her beck and call.
If lucky enough to buy her the round,
and she lonely enough to let him sit down,
They might get more than most, perhaps the chance to hold her,
Though they didn’t know for only one night,
Or even if they do, they still put up the most gallant of fights,
Just to see what she will do.
But even they will fall like prey as morning comes and she turns the colder shoulder.
So there she sits with her scarlet lips, just staring at her glass,
Playing games, forgetting names, and hoping one more night will pass.
“A universe of ineffable gaudiness spun itself out in his brain.” - The Great Gatsby
Ferris Bueller’s Day Off (1986; dir. John Hughes)
Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.
(Source: downlookingup)
