When I call you “mine”, I don’t mean that I’m staking a claim of ownership over you, but that you have become such an integral part of me that my body can’t function without you. That you have become the most beautiful part of me, the piece of me I found and can never let go.
When I call you “mine”, it’s not because I want to keep you away from the world, but that I want to hold you close as we travel through life together. Wrapped in our own bubble that keeps out the darkness, no matter how far apart we are we’ll never be alone.
When I call you “mine”, it’s not from some stupid male superiority complex. It’s because I want you to know that of course I’ll do everything in my power to always keep you safe, but in return, I need to know you’re there to protect me too, and that for every time I call you “mine”, I really mean “I’m yours”."
"Like most food, apologies are best served and tasted fresh. Offered later,apologies are like meals reheated in a microwave oven: it tastes vaguely like the food when it was fresh, but not really."
Embroiders Popular Internet Cats on Shirts
You Can Also Find Me -:
This 3D poem-book created by pop-up technique was inspired by the twentieth-century Hungarian poet Miklós Radnóti’s lyrical cycle titled Calendar. The spatial compositions in the twelve spreads are linked to the main theme – the changes in nature with the seasons of the year. The whole cycle is about the changes and movements take place in nature. The small paper creations reflect the atmosphere and cyclical nature of the seasons in a clear but lyric and sensitive way – as the poems it selves do. Except in case of the typography I consciously used no colours but accidental lights, shadows and contrasts in order to create a smooth harmony of colours.
Yetis and Friends - Cody Williams.
I want to whisper poetry into your longing mouth,
and breathe my love into your soul.
My mind was all dark thoughts and sickness,
then I found you- the medicine I need
to get me through.
Now I can’t get enough;
I just want to overdose on you.
I’m done opening doors to wolves,
now I only open up for you.
My spine is brittle, like an old book,
and I’m losing pages in the breeze.
You’re the only one I’ll allow to read me.
You stare straight into my core,
like you already know me,
like you know all the bad things
I want to do with you.
I hid my feelings buried in cold soil,
protected by my bones.
So plant your fingers in my back
and grow roots around my soul.
Some people burn slowly,
but you rage out of control
like a forest fire through my heart.
Some days we only need to speak in gasps between kisses,
And we still know what we want to say.
So let’s find a new way to write your name.
"the hopeful" on moleskine
East Village Studio by JPDA