I'm simply a 25-year-old woman who thinks too much, overanalyzes life, and, most importantly, writes to get it all out.

18th April 2014

Post with 4 notes

Inside my mind
lay the secrets that I
dare not share with you

because, my dear,
it’s my greatest fear
that I will become a monster,

a girl I don’t recognize,
and I will realize
that I am not what I see

in the mirror each day,
but my love, I pray,
that your eyes reflect the truth.

Tagged: poetrywritingspilled ink

18th April 2014

Photo with 6 notes

Hey. You. Yes, you. It’s my day off, it’s 5 til 5, and I’ve already had 4 beers. I FREAKIN’ DESERVE THIS. 
Also I made cookies. :3

Hey. You. Yes, you. It’s my day off, it’s 5 til 5, and I’ve already had 4 beers. I FREAKIN’ DESERVE THIS. 

Also I made cookies. :3

Tagged: photosselfieit's 5 o'clock somewhere

18th April 2014

Quote reblogged from cinnamon zen with 26,335 notes

Everything I’ve ever let go of had claw marks on it.
— David Foster Wallace (via princess)

Source: anchorswritingandbeautifulthings

17th April 2014

Post with 10 notes


Shedding tears today
will not extinguish the pain
that tomorrow brings.

Tagged: poetrywritingspilled inkhaiku

17th April 2014

Post with 6 notes

Harsh words dance inside my mind
'round a bonfire of my burning life,
a ritual that must take place
for me to see the meaning
behind their chanting.

No one said it was easy to interpret
the words of medicine men;
no one said it was easy
to find out why we’re ill.

The flames lick at my heart, so pure
and to the point; the pain they
cause has purpose.

I’ve found the root, but I will burn
until it is extinguished.

Where’s the fire escape?

Tagged: poetrywritingspilled ink

17th April 2014

Post with 8 notes

There is a price I pay, you see,
for my individuality;
my fire burns too fiercely
until my life is barren.

I live inside this ashy prison,
and from my very soul, it’s risen;
a phoenix born of treason,
my pride thrives on his own.

He’s grown into a fearsome beast
to say the very, very least;
he preys upon me like a feast
to celebrate his conquers.

I must begin my training
to slay this beast that’s weighing
so heavily on me; I’m praying
for his final, timely end

(and I swear
it will be bitter).

Tagged: poetrywritingspilled inkpride

15th April 2014

Post reblogged from In So Many Words with 15 notes



You’re told to cast them
into the winter sea,
to abandon them deep
in the midnight woods,
but tiny echoes always ring, 
their chiming voices singing
sweet, intoxicating tunes 
behind your cracking skull,
telling tall tales of princesses
getting their happily ever afters

(you can never quite shake them,
though you convince yourself 
they’ve died).

They will inevitably resurface
from the icy waters,
and quietly emerge
from the thick, dense pines,
and meet you at your first hello
with a man who will never measure up
to the timeless Disney fantasy
stuck on repeat in your mind

(and you wonder why
you can never hold on
to men).

Tagged: poetrywritingspilled ink

14th April 2014

Post with 18 notes

The Violence Of Silence

Inside unspokens
lies the heart of the matter,
but I remain mute.

Tagged: poetrywritingspilled inkhaikuunspoken words

14th April 2014

Quote reblogged from Tender Nibbles and a Hard Bite with 87 notes

All I ask is that you understand the words that I am refusing to say
— Wolfie (via desayunogratis)

13th April 2014

Post with 10 notes

I sit down to write, and so many thoughts flow in, I do not know where to begin. I suppose I should start where my heart aches the most; I should begin where my pain does. 

I know you are the one; you are my knight in shining armor, as they say. You are my saving grace, my anomaly in a world full of everyday occurrences. But my heart, she is throbbing still; she feels unfulfilled. She hurts for the loss of you, though you have not left me. 

We are to wed in a month and a half’s time. We are to tie the knot that is forever, though forever on this planet lasts only a second. I am excited. I am ready. I have been ready for quite awhile now. But the angry ocean screams in my ear; the sirens are calling to me from the murky depths, seducing my thoughts into the dark oblivion. They tell me how something bad must be lurking around the corner, waiting to strike when I am at my highest. But they only want me to drown in their trenches. It seems to me that I do not have a safe place to go anymore, that it is either the rip tide or the storm brewing above my head that will take me. 

You are there to save me, but my heart is mourning your absence. You stand beside me, holding out your hand, but I just stare back at you as if you were merely a mirage. I long for your embrace, your sweet kisses and encompassing hugs, but you are only a photograph. I feel as if I am fooling myself into thinking that things are as good as they have been.

My heart, she sings out your name, but my head, oh, my head, she thrives off of tempering the voice streaming from my chest.

I am not allowed to feel such bliss without a price.

Tagged: prosewritingspilled ink