Sun, 14th Sep — 1,470 notes

Fri, 12th Sep — 245 notes
Fri, 12th Sep — 503 notes
Dulzura by Sandra Cisneros


Make love to me in Spanish.
Not with that other tongue.
I want you juntito a mi,
tender like the language
crooned to babies.
I want to be that
lullabied, mi bien
, that loved.

I want you inside
the mouth of my heart,
inside the harp of my wrists,
the sweet meat of the mango,
in the gold that dangles
from my ears and neck.

Say my name. Say it.
The way it’s supposed to be said.
I want to know that I knew you
even before I knew you.

Sun, 7th Sep — 393 notes
I have lost and loved and won and cried myself to the person I am today.

— Charlotte Eriksson, Empty Roads & Broken Bottles; in search for The Great Perhaps (via fawun)

Sun, 7th Sep — 147,899 notes
Fri, 29th Aug — 26,810 notes

Happy birthday Flo!! ❤️

Thu, 28th Aug — 1 note
Be quiet. And that doesn’t mean that you are no longer expected to share your feelings and tell jokes and engage in conversation — it just means be quiet. Sometimes, quiet is needed. Learn to appreciate what quiet can be for people. Learn how two people can sit on different sides of the room, silently engaging in their own activities, and still achieve a profound sense of closeness.

How to Love an Introvert, Charlotte Green (via creatingaquietmind)

Mon, 25th Aug — 8,989 notes
Sat, 23rd Aug — 63,352 notes
Phobia Fixation

First it’s the aichmophobia. 

The anticipation.
The metal medical
exam tables, the glass
thermometer, the plastic
sharps waste container,
they all might as well stab
me from the agonizing anxiety.
Needles and other sharp tools on
the steel tray the nurse serves to
remind me of the time I ran sprinting
out of the hospital before other doctors
had to grab and drag me back to the room.

Or the time when I had to sit for four hours
in a wrought iron hospital bed with a tube
sticking out of my arm and with stiff, coarse
cushions as my only comfort because leaving
the hospital wasn’t as great as I first thought
it would be after the remaining blood quickly
started gathering up towards my face and

Next came the emetophobia.

The heart-tantalizing experience
of trying to keep my cool because
I am now sweating and I can feel
the residuals coming up through
my throat and I am trying so hard
to swallow it all back in before…
everythingerupts and clattering
onto the sidewalk in the Walgreens
parking lot is the spilling noise of
foul liquid trickling down my leg.

The scary thing is that I’m not afraid
of the everyday risks that could possibly
kill me, like getting into a car accident.
No, I’m more frightened by my phobias.

- C.B


Fri, 22nd Aug — 4 notes