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madeofmemoriesblog · 20 days ago
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"With freedom, books, flowers, and the moon, who could not be happy?"
-Oscar Wilde
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jugn00 · 7 months ago
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//hands: i extended mine and you held on//
source: pinterest
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holdinbacksecrets · 5 months ago
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just like raindrops
Rain patters against the window. It’s intoxicating. The way it grows to a crescendo, and you find yourself looking towards the glass, wondering if it’s strong enough to withstand a morning storm. But then a few minutes pass, and the rushing becomes gentle. Gentle enough to follow a droplet down the window, waiting for it to run into another and fall out of view. 
Across the room is Jungkook. He’s folding laundry because it’s Saturday, and he always folds the laundry on Saturday. He showered first, after waking up before you were even aware a new day had begun, to go to the gym. So his hair is still damp, and sticks to his cheeks when he turns his head. 
The rain is interesting, but your boyfriend surpasses intriguing. You smile as you watch the way he sits with his long, toned legs stretched out in front of him; his feet are crossed at the ankle. Sometimes he hums, just a little bit. A melody you recognize. Sometimes he folds a T-shirt, and then does it again because one of the sleeves didn’t get tucked in the way he wanted it to. Sometimes he looks over at you. He had been earlier, when all your attention was on the weather. He looked so long that he gave up on the laundry altogether. 
Sometimes his attention gets all caught up on the way your head rests against the back of the armchair. He gets all distracted by your eyebrows furrowing because you’re squinting to see something he doesn’t—something he can’t: your admiration zeroed in on the creations hidden in swirling, dark storm clouds. Sometimes he wonders what goes on in that pretty little head of yours. A mind that cherishes Jungkook’s love. A mind filled with memorized sonnets, and recipes from your mother’s favorite cookbooks. A mind connected to a heart that’s been hurt enough times to still feel your breath get caught in the back of your throat when your head meets his chest, because nightmares feel awfully real sometimes. 
Sometimes your love aligns your eyes, and you look up at the same time. You smile without realizing. Jungkook says he loves you from across the room. You lift your leg, flex your foot, showing off the tattooed heart on its sole. He laughs, and finds himself pushing his hair back. It’s unfair to not see all of you because of dark strands falling in front of his eyes. 
Sometimes being in the same room isn’t enough, and you have to fold down the page corner of your book, wrap the knitted blanket around your body, and join the man taking up space on the hardwood floor. His hand wraps around your calf, and Jungkook pulls you close enough to press his lips against yours. Your fingers move to the nape of his neck, trapping tresses in your grip, and smelling the light aroma of his body wash and shampoo. Sometimes you use his products when he’s been gone long enough for the scent to leave the pillowcases, or after your own laundry cycle wipes his traces clean. 
Thankfully there are always pieces of him around, and you sink into them: his clothes on your skin. Your tea in his coffee mugs. His bracelet on your wrist. His coat, covering your body when you head down to the bodega for a loaf of bread. There’s homemade soup on the stove.  
Jungkook pulls away from your mouth to escape the perfect piles of laundry, leading you towards the bedroom that has easily become your favorite safe haven. The curtains are still drawn, so he leaves the door open, wanting the gentle cascade of light to meet your skin, and it’s so beautiful. You’re so beautiful. He tells you, too, but you can see it in the way his eyes shine, in the way his thumb meets your cheek. Smoothing his love against your skin. 
You lay back on the bed, admiring the time he spends to meet you: let his body fall upon yours, and find yourselves melting together, just like raindrops. 
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yourstrulyluv · a month ago
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I desperately need reading playlists to read in public
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thepointizpoetry · 5 months ago
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Khusrau darya prem ka, ulti wa ki dhaar, Jo utra so doob gaya, jo dooba so paar.
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Oh Khusrau, the river of love runs in strange directions. One who jumps into it drowns, and one who drowns, gets across.
The Writings Of Amir Khusrau :700 years after the prophet : a 13th-14th century legend of Indian-sub-continent
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jugn00 · 5 months ago
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the dusk set in and we ran out. the sky was tinged with purple.
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holdinbacksecrets · 6 months ago
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january i left flowers on your doorstep. i picked off all the dried petals and browning leaves. if you don’t have a vase it’s ok. a glass jar will do
april i played your music in my car. my friend was with me and she turned up the volume before i could hit next. she forgot what you sound like, but i didn’t. my mind hasn’t. my heart can’t. sometimes i still wait for you to come home
may i went back to my parents’ this weekend. they still have those candles on the roof we took up. all i needed was a lighter, but i brought my favorite book too and something for dinner. i fell asleep on the checkered blanket, left my neck aching in the morning. the smell of the breeze on my skin
july i started painting again. i know i told you i never would again, but i had to. i never took down my easel, and the sunset was so beautiful. too beautiful to forget about it with the night. i’ll pretend you’ll see it soon. the thought might make me smile
september i didn’t realize the t shirt you let me borrow was still in my dresser. i swear my search lasted weeks, and the moment i gave up was when my fingers wrapped around the knobs and brought the old fabric into view. the holes around the collar have connected, and now my entire collarbone is exposed when i wear it. my mom made me put on a jacket, refusing to go in public with me otherwise. she doesn’t know it’s yours
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