this little café is all abuzz with conversation. my latte is lukewarm and neglected. i am too busy leaning forward in my chair, eyes fixed on your mouth, i haven't thought to take a sip. you are speaking thirty words a second and i am trying to discern each sentence, but before i can, one hundred more have been spit out onto the table. i can tell by your animated face that you are sharing something significant, but all i can hear is the milk steaming and the gossip being shared at the surrounding tables. the light above us is flickering and swaying and it is possible that it is all the hearts beating in one place causing this tiny earthquake to take place. one sip, my drink isn't right. i asked for hazelnut.

laying in bed and laying in bed and laying in bed
with you

i had to save this because it is just too special.

favorite things about being alive: singing, laughing, hiking, hugging, kissing, playing guitar, listening to other people play music, reading, doing things for people, surprising people, making people feel special and loved. best feeling in the world.

music, poetry, art, love, kittens, discovering things, exploring things

being spontaneous, photo excursions, and most definitely writing

the smell of dark rooms

skeleton keys and creaky wooden floors

really old leather furniture, the way my dad's t-shirts smell, waking up early

back scratches, my brother's sneezes that could wake up the entire neighborhood, being looked in the eye when i'm not expecting it

book shops with cats, attics, candles

trees with exposed roots, seeing how in love my grandparents are after so many years, time capsules

i like you.
i like you too.

maybe it's just the vicodin (i just got my wisdom teeth pulled), but this sappy conversation made me smile big time.

you swim around inside of my head all day long
do you like it in there?

chapped lips holding back words that have been sucked dry of all meaning

My heavy heart is weighing me down, my chest is one with the ground, yet the earth feels so good beneath me. The grass starts tying itself around me in perfect green bows. My arms and legs are the roots of a tree stump and I'm not moving anymore. I'd much rather have a big heart than a cold one. I'd rather be hurt than be the cause, yet I am heartache and it's seeping into your chest and there's nothing I can do. My mistakes are clouds floating overhead, you're trying to guess their shape, but they're raining on you instead.

Your voice travels across the ocean, in with the tide, passing state borders and county lines. It wanders its way under my door, between my sheets, up past my face. It's a cool breeze on a summer night, the cold side of the pillow. "Everyone will leave sometime," you say, but what does that mean? Life is just a cycle from the day we are born up until the day we die. Hello, goodbye, hello, goodbye, hello, goodbye, hello, and goodbye. I'm here when I want to be there and I've always been told to follow my heart, but maybe I don't know where it is anymore. I'm standing and sitting and I'm running around in circles, but I've lost track of which direction I'm going. My compass is broken and I'm out of breath. I think it's time my heart found me because I'm all out of places to look.