if only if only if only if only if only
woulda coulda shoulda woulda coulda shoulda
hope floats somewhere someway somehow
note to self: give it your best each day, always stay humble, and always be kind.
p.s. - it’s okay to feel overwhelmed and feel detached from the world sometimes.
Reblogged from vincentnicasio with 17 notes
Song for Sienna - Brian Crain
Reblogged from alionamongladies with 31 notes
"I went inside my heart to see how it was.
Something there makes me hear the whole world weeping."
Rumi, translated by Coleman Barks, with thanks to huong1952 (via growing-orbits)
Reblogged from growing-orbits with 512 notes
to commemorate his life
When I think of you, I think of family. I think of you as a grandfather, a father, a husband, and I think of all of the people who love you as all of those things.
You died on Easter Sunday and I can’t think of anything more fitting. God decided to share his most special day with you. He decided to bring you to heaven on a glorious day. And I believe in heaven now, and God and angels and praying for your last breath. I do, from the bottom of my skeptic little heart. It’s something about how there has to be a heaven for someone like you. For someone selfless, for someone who loved others and who was loved back in return.
I learned something about love today. The kind of love that doesn’t need words to be expressed. The kind of love that can be shown with uncles buying their nieces Starbucks Frappucinos when they’re too far gone in grief, with tissue boxes and hugs and holding a box of his old slippers close to your chest, with fathers, the most stoic and strong-willed of fathers, being brought to the edge of tears.
I saw my father cry for the first time today. I saw him cry for his father as he thanked him for all that he has done for him. And I think about how I will cry one day for my father too and how that will be the worst day of my life.
And I think of how I’m already crying for my grandfather. And how I can’t tell the difference between grief and comfort. Grief for how much I miss him and comfort for how happy I am for him. He was at peace for the first time in a long time. You could physically see it on his face. The face with so many wrinkles and age spots. The face that has seen so many lives, has lived so many experiences. He lived a good life, a life that anyone would be proud to live. And that is why this is okay.
the cinnamon peeler's wife: (152)
I would fold
a thousand paper cranes
for you,would fight away all those demons
that leave scratches over your skin
just so that you know
that they don’t leave
through bloody trails.I look at you and see all the ways
a soul can bruise, and I wish
I could sink my hands into your flesh
and light lanterns along your spine
so you know that there’s nothing
but light
when I see you.Listen.
When the wind blows
all your candles out, when the stars
turn to plumes of smoke,
when your mother makes you watch
all the matches burn out in her eyes,let me hold your hand, your skin,
all the stones you’ve swallowed in your sleep,and slip your soul out of your skin
so you can sleep in my palms
for tonight.
count your blessings
it is in these countdown hours
that i hold my breath
as if by breathing
i could blow you away from me
you are already goneyou are already gone
i am afraid of where you will fall
and how our hands will ache
when we realize there is
nothing left for us to catch
"Sorry about the bony elbows, sorry we
lived here, sorry about the scene at the bottom of the stairwell
and how I ruined everything by saying it out loud.
Especially that, but I should have known.
You see, I take the parts that I remember and stitch them back together
to make a creature that will do what I say
or love me back."
Richard Siken Litany in Which Certain Things Are Crossed Out (via ascandalsouthofnowhere)
