Adventure Is Out There

No coward soul is mine

295 notes

alonesomes:

Love me like a crime show
because yeah,
there are so many others out there,
but I’m your favorite noise
to fall asleep to
and you like the way I carry the
tragedy.

(via bycnadal)

5,942 notes

She holds her hair up with only two chopsticks and a bobby pin.
Think Atlas. Think shoulders.
When your sadness starts to feast,
she carries the light down from the
mountain and hands it to you,
tells you to set it on fire.
Think Prometheus. Think savior.
On Sunday, she steps out of the shower and you don’t think you’ve ever seen anything more beautiful than the way she walks towards you with a towel on her head, water clinging to her like there is
nowhere else it would rather be.
Think Aphrodite. Think sea foam.
You love her like mythology.
You love her like the impossible stories of Gods and monsters.
When she sings, think fairies.
Think mermaids. Think hymns.
She is the face of the river that
Narcissus fell in love with,
confusing hers for his own.
She is Medusa’s fury,
Athena’s strength,
Achelois’ healing.
You are kissing her in a crowded
restaurant and it feels like praying.
You are watching her instead of the
meteor shower
and you don’t even notice.
Mythology | Caitlyn Siehl (via alonesomes)

(via bycnadal)

101,642 notes

It’s Monday,
and your hair is messy.
You haphazardly put on your jeans and shirt
as you moan about the day of the week -
and I love you.

It’s Tuesday,
and you’re stumbling your way around the room,
trying to sort out the things you have to do.
You stop to briefly kiss the freckles on my nose,
asking me about my day -
and I love you.

It’s Wednesday,
and you’re quietly sprawled on the couch.
You pat the spot next to you and pepper kisses on my hair
because it’s my least favorite day of the week (and you know it) -
and I love you.

It’s Thursday,
and you’re wondering what the weekend will bring,
but you’re still moaning about how
the week is going by too slow for your tastes -
and I love you.

It’s Friday,
and I’m surrounded by DVDs and snacks
you’ve prepared when I was gone.
You welcome me with blankets and warmth from your arms -
and I love you.

It’s Saturday,
and you’re feeling lazy.
You won’t let me leave your arms
(or is it the other way around?)
So you tuck me under your chin as we both wonder
how much time we have left
before sleep makes us miss each other’s faces -
and I love you.

It’s Sunday,
and there’s nothing much to say but
I love you.

Loving you (NJ.)

This is beautiful.

(via thelovethatleftmetodie)

(via nannyism)

39,803 notes

misseffie:

In other news: Jane Austen rises from her grave to claim that she regrets Mr Darcy and Elizabeth ending up together. “Mr Wickham was probs the way to go." Fandom is shocked and confused.

(via katieoftara)

182 notes

"Hello old friend, and here we are. You and me, on the last page. By the time you read these words, Rory and I will be long gone. So know that we lived well, and we’re very happy. And above all else, know that we will love you, always. Sometimes I do worry about you, though. I think, once we’re gone, you won’t be coming back here for a while, and you might be alone, which you should never be. Don’t be alone, Doctor. And do one more thing for me. There’s a little girl waiting in a garden. She’s going to wait a long while, so she’s going to need a lot of hope. Go to her. Tell her a story. Tell her that if she’s patient, the days are coming that she’ll never forget. Tell her she’ll go to sea and fight pirates. She’ll fall in love with a man who’ll wait two thousand years to keep her safe. Tell her she’ll give hope to the greatest painter who ever lived, and save a whale in outer space. Tell her, this is the story of Amelia Pond. And this is how it ends.”

(Source: googlingluke, via cristinmilioti)