incandescenc-e:

I wish someone loved me enough to fill roomfuls of galaxies with my written form, right up there next to the winking stars. I wish I was a little dog-eared paperback novel that they carried around with them, always, or a thin book of poetry gently scribed from my place in their treasury with love, or a worn-out moleskin notebook of two-minute scribbled thoughts, little sunbursts of inspiration held tenderly, delicately, between quivering palms.. I wish that someone would write me as they see me, broken or whole, fragile glass or steel strength, heart honest or crooked, all the way through- but writers never seem to fall in love with me the way that I wish they would, sometimes. They do not write beautiful words for cracked mirror souls.

Posted 3 months ago with 23 notes

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