Not all those who wander are lost.

I wish you knew how bad it fucked me up.

I said it didn’t matter but my fucking heart was in pieces

You can be over someone and still be affected by the impact they left on you.

Then suddenly I realized that your name didn’t hurt and it hadn’t for a month, that I was crying less and smiling more, and that the sky was turning back into the same blue as before I met you. You were fading and I was free.

That time you confused a lesson for a soulmate.

I want you to drunk text me. I want you to think about me. Please fucking think about me sometimes because the only thing I do is think about you

“What was the hardest part of your first heartbreak?” my little sister asked me one day. It was a sunny day, we were having a picnic. But suddenly, I felt as if the clouds had overtaken the sun. “I think the hardest part was that we kind of morphed into the same person,” I said. “What do you mean?” she asked. “When you spend so much time together, you get so close. Soon enough, you can read each other’s minds, you can tell what they’re thinking just by a raise of their eyebrow.” I picked away at the grass we were sitting on, trying not to feel the depth of what I was saying. I couldn’t let myself get that low again. “Your favorite song becomes his favorite song. Then, his favorite bands become your favorite bands. You start loving the same movies. You pick up hiking together. And then when you break up, you still love all those things. It’s all still there.” “But they’re not,” she said, almost in a whisper. “But they’re not,” I repeated. “And it’s like you become a half of a person, left on your own to grow the other half back.”

I need to wake up next to you so I can roll over and see your face, kiss you and realize how beautiful you are in that moment. I want to kiss you and keep kissing you, all over. I want my sleepy eyes to slowly wake up as I explore your body.. your chest. your stomach. your thighs. I want my hands to be the first thing you feel as they roam freely over your skin. I want the sun to rise with your anticipation while my tongue runs down you. Let the sound of you moaning my name be the alarm clock that I will never push snooze on. Now that’s how I want to wake up.