...La Verita...

...tidbits, tatters, glitter and debris...

3 notes


I love you because you’re strong, not just physically but mentally, you could get through any adversity. I love you because you’re smart, not just intelligent, but street smart, you know things, you’ve seen things, you’ve done things. You’re confidant and you’re brave, you’re not afraid of anything. I love you because you’re proactive and decisive, you get things done, you don’t take anyone’s shit and you do what you want. I love you because you’re inspiring. I love how you love animals and how you turn into a complete marshmallow whenever you see a dog. I love you because you’re caring and decent, you go out of your way to help people. You’re loyal, you’re charismatic, you’re funny, you make me laugh, you make me feel like the world has endless possibilities. I love you because you made me better, you make me question things about the world, about my life. You make me want to get up on the morning. I love you because you see my potential: when I achieve good things it will be because I met you.

I love your face, the way you look at me, your smile, your dimples. I love the sound of your voice, your crazy laugh, your broody eyebrows. I love the strange colour of your hair and how its texture feels in my hands. I love your body, how smooth your skin is, your arms, your chest, your hands. I love how you fit me. I love how protected I feel when you hold me. I love you because you’re you, you’re unique, I’m never going to meet another you. I love you because you’re everything. You are everything.

Filed under Personal everything what I would say to you I hope you're still reading

6 notes

I wrote once of finding beauty in the rubble, and here we are, sifting…

I found your hands around my neck, wringing me of every falsehood

disintegrating my lungs 

I found your eyes searching mine

I found pieces amid the rubble:

shards of heart or bone (one cannot be too sure)

I looked away.

could you still hold me like my broken edges aren’t piercing your thick skin?

I wrote once of every tiny superficial flaw…

you were beauty in the rubble

you are.

let’s keep sifting.


Filed under poetry spilled ink rubble

11 notes

oh child,

disguised in adult curves

don’t cry

for decisions you couldn’t make

oh child,

your words are empty verse

don’t think

you’re not the one to blame

oh child,

your pretty painted face

won’t save you

from your current state

oh child,

wake up, get out of bed

there’s hope

still in that restless head


Filed under poetry spilled ink oh child

9 notes

"People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that’s what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that is holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life. A true soul mate is probably the most important person you’ll ever meet because they tear down your walls and smack you awake. A soul mate’s purpose is to shake you up, tear apart your ego a little bit, show you your obstacles and addictions, break your heart open so new light can get in, make you so out of control that you have to change your life…"

~ Elizabeth Gilbert

Filed under quote elizabeth gilbert soulmate i had this i gave it away

4 notes

"You loved me because I’m fragile, When I thought that I was strong." ~ Sarah bareilles

38 days have passed

and still the rain pours

into my open wounds

fresh as the day they were painted.

this untimely summer

burns the raw flesh

i’ve been left with:

my skin is as open as your heart once was

Back when I was a moon in your orbit

a soft glow

far too subtle to light your darkness.

38 days without your gravitational pull.

38 days and counting.

Filed under poetry spilled ink shit writing it out i wonder if you're still reading gravity

7 notes

body lost context

once whole, now transient

existence is no longer pure

no longer necessity

not necessarily the most valid option

that which is tangible

becomes immaterial

the physical wold fades

giving light only

to distant memory

the purity of impure fantasy.

inanimate objects

are no longer simply functional

they are imbibed with the essence

of the one who once touched them.

once touched, once lost

skin is no longer skin

this table

the sheets

the imprints left behind

invisible to the naked eyes of the ignorant

painful to the eyes of the known.

And my mind has become a prison

for every element of you:

trapped, forever intangible.

I have lost the key.

I have lost.

existence is now optional.

Filed under loss of context poetry spilled ink writing it out

8 notes

I don’t ask you to love me always like this, but I ask you to remember: somewhere inside of me there will always be the person I am tonight.
F. Scott Fitzgerald
Tender is the night

5 notes

there’s stillness

like approaching dawn,

you couldn’t take my right hand

so you take the left:

sharp turn around my heart

into darkness

like impending doom

into the shadows

that invade my room,

head tangling heart

and heart tangling head

falling into the grave ive made my bed,


like a racing pulse


like a sunshine false

hands which clutch a

headless heart

O hollowed head

O helpless heart

in still and dark

be moved, find light

Filed under poetry spilled ink junk

5 notes

I don’t want one last time

I want forever:

a forever of twining my fingers

through the knots in your heart.

I didn’t come with lessons to teach:

only with faith in my own hollow words

and calloused fingertips

to stroke your razor sharp edges.

I want yesterday

not this black today which holds

only memories of you

slicing my silence with solitude.

I need you

like bonnie needs clyde

like amy needs blake

like my entire fucking world is falling down

because I cant see your face.

I don’t want a last goodbye

I want forever

I want yesterday