“I know you’re just a rag doll now,
sewn together with memories that we might have had.
I know you’re just the dream inside of a dream
And don’t worry,
I know I don’t know you,
anymore.”

Iain Thomas, I Wrote This For You (via lookingforsomeonewhocares)

“I need you to know
I never stopped waiting.
please come back.
kiss me one last time.
it’s too hard to even
sleep in my own bed
because everything feels
like you. even the sheets—”
“time limit reached.
if you are satisfied
with your voicemail,
press one.”

a.v., your voicemail is probably tired of listening to me // 30 day poetry challenge (day 27)

07-27 / 19:49 / 51 notes
Anonymous asked: Do you have a favorite poem of all time?

If you haven’t read 5 Reasons I Lock The Doors (or anything else by backshelfpoet but esp. this poem) then who are you and what are you doing with your life.

Otherwise, Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frost is probably my favorite.

a.v.

07-27 / 3:08 / 39 notes

“do you have a name,
or should I just call you Stranger?
I’ve been waiting seventeen years,
and still, my voicemail is always empty,
the mailman without a letter;
Stranger, you only knew
what my voice sounded like
when it was crying.
Stranger, you probably can’t remember
the ridges in my fingertips,
no matter how small they used to be.
Stranger, Mother, whatever you go by—
when asked, I say that you are dead
because it’s easier than believing
you’re living in some place called Home
with a daughter whose eyes
look exactly like my own;
except, when hers see you walk away,
they know you’re always coming back.”

a.v., was I ever really your daughter? // 30 day poetry challenge (day 26)

07-27 / 3:03 / 15 notes
Anonymous asked: what poem are you most proud of that you've ever written?

Oh, that’s really hard. I think as of right now, it’s How Badly Did He Break You, mainly because I put so much effort into it. But I am quite happy with Sugar Is Sweet. Nothing else comes to mind immediately.

- a.v.

07-27 / 1:59 / 1 note

Three years later, a new girl sits cross-legged on your bed.
She tastes like a different flavor of bubblegum than you are used to.
She opens up a book that you had to read in high school, and a folded picture of us falls out of chapter three.
Now there are two unfinished stories resting in her lap.
Inevitably, she asks, and you tell her.

You say: I dated her a while back.
You don’t say: Sometimes, when I’m holding you, I imagine the smell of her vanilla perfume.

You say: She was younger than me.
You don’t say: The sixteen summers in her bones warmed the eighteen winters my skin had weathered.

You say: It’s nothing now.
You don’t say: But it was everything then.

Some things are better left unsaid (via dearalexandra)

FUCK?!!?

(via extrasad)

“I’m afraid of
a lot of things,
but mostly,
most sincerely,
I am afraid of
being completely
unraveled by you,
and you finding nothing
you want in here.”

L.M. Dorsey (via larmoyante)

“I should have loved you less.
I should have loved myself more.”

(166/365) by (DS)

“fuck this. I can’t even tell you goodbye because you’re still here, except you’re not really here anymore— you’re just a graveyard for the promises I tasted on your lips. but I was never really supposed to know what they tasted like, was I? all I see when I look at you is everything I never wanted. all the things I was worried we’d turn into. screw happy endings. it’s inevitability that fucks everyone over. it’s the reason people spend all their time flipping through the pages rather than finishing the goddamn book.”

a.v., I can’t think of what to say— is that why you won’t talk to me anymore?

07-26 / 2:25 / 126 notes
BJs