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#lustforunspokenwords
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We speak the same language but still, I can't understand you.
J.N. 
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wnq-writers · 6 years
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As I put my feet on the rotting leaves, I’m hearing names whispered to my ears. Names of summer lovers, lovers only meant to be called lovers until the heat is over. Until I can’t taste a mixture of sunscreen and the endless sea on my lips and feel ice cream, my sweet remedy, melting down in my hands.   Until the long nights filled with skinny-dipping and dancing until dawn and watching the sky revealing its many hues from red to orange, yellow, lilac and finally to blue, all in a smooth transition,  are over. These names of lovers engraved on the trunks of trees, on the doors of public toilettes, in an unknown bedroom are slowly fading away, are being carried away with the first cold breeze gently stroking our faces like a hand of a lover, like a pillow of oblivion.  And all I can do is to listen carefully to the leaves in the hopes of not hearing your name being whispered into my ears.
J.N. (lustforunspokenwords)
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24hoursopen · 5 years
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You stopped caring so I cared more. And perhaps this was my greatest mistake. To care for someone who didn’t even spend one single thought on me.Your carelessness wrecked me.
Your carelessness wrecked me.
@lustforunspokenwords
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sound-in-silence · 7 years
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Hey guys! I recently just hit 500 followers, and figured its about time for me to do that follow forever I promised!
bold= friends italicized= favorites feel free to punch me in the face if i forgot you!!
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kerin-a-blog · 6 years
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“Acceptance doesn’t mean a damn thing if you’re not willing to move on.”
J.N. Lessons I learned this year. (via lustforunspokenwords)
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There are people whose glass could be filled to the brim, almost spilling over and still, they will say they need more water, they are still thirsty. Leave such people, exclude them from your life for they’ll only make you question whether you are enough.
You can not quench their thirst. 
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She has become weak or maybe she was never strong Perhaps she was never confident nor loud Only a faint whisper, a sigh, a mere murmur She was easy to dismiss and to oppress To neglect and to trivialise  But after years of mistreatment and suffering through external voices, it's time to not just listen to her but to carefully listen To soak up her advice To satisfy her desires And to ask her for advice before anyone else For she always knows what's really good for me
J.N My inner voice has suffered enough 
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You stopped caring so I cared more. And perhaps this was my greatest mistake. To care for someone who didn't even spend one single thought on me. Your carelessness wrecked me.
J.N. Your carelessness wrecked me. 
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How foolish of me to believe that the hands that undressed me would hold me in the morning.
J.N,
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Sometimes I feel like worn-out socks. Used and abandoned.
J.N. Sometimes often. 
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Before I met you home was always just a place where my bed would stand and my body would rest but now that I came to know you my body won’t find rest until your body is laying next to it. I guess home is more than just a bed to sleep in.
J.N. Without you it’s not a home anymore. 
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Call it love. Call it affection. Call it passion. An ardent longing, spreading across your chest, making you want to spend the night with me, or just lust if you can't articulate your feelings if you are too afraid to admit the truth I can forever taste on your lips. Then, only then call it lust, the pursuit of pleasure. But don't tell me you didn't feel anything when you eagerly covered my body in kisses. When you left your marks on my skin in a desperate attempt to be remembered on my skin and in my mind. When I invited you to be a part of me. And you opened my legs with tenderness and adoration. When you and I became one and felt suffused  with joy because it is more than lust we share every single night.
J.N. Call it lust but don’t call it nothing. Call it love. 
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It's the people who can not love tenderly and honestly who make love cruel and dangerous and with it the world.
J.N. It’s the people not love.  
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You have to understand that sometimes paper cuts do hurt more than broken bones. Sometimes it’s not just the big actions like cheating or lying that hurt but the small ones, the ones that seem so trivial that let you feel pain. Like not listening to someone. Not dedicating your whole attention to the person talking you. Genuinely wanting to hear them speak. Or belittling the worries and problems of a person .Taking them not serious enough even though worries and problems are subjective and you don’t know how life feels like in their skin. It’s the act of taking the person for granted or being emotionally not available. Not wanting to share saddness not just joy because there can’t be always sunshine and a smile. And when collected, all these paper cuts feel like a broken bone, an open wound, a sad goodbye.
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I wish my body was a sacred temple A sanctuary for my mind and soul A place where tranquillity has found its home A place where I can find recourse An oasis of calm that no one dares violate That no one dares to enter without permission Not even you The one who claims to love me But you already wreaked havoc in me You already disturbed my inner peace And left your marks on me
J.N. It’s all just wishful
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I want to belong  To belong somewhere To a place To a person To anything I can call home Where both my body and my mind can finally rest without fears and doubts  For I've been aimlessly wandering for far too long
J.N. I’m exhausted 
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