The great, ongoing gamble: Does showing your heart show your hand and cause the fearful to fold, or does it meet w/ a heart suited to yours?
It’s official. I want you. I unapologetically, unreservedly, unrestrainedly want to spend as much time with you as I possibly can. Be freaked out by that, be upset about it, be annoyed and frustrated with it, I almost don’t even care. I care just enough in that I don’t want to see or think of you unhappy, but that’s life. And I want to experience life with you in many shades - rainbow hues AND inky blacks. Shimmering seafoams to grungy greys, bring it all on. Bring on the cuddling and the miscommunication, the feeling and the fighting, the unkind words and the unconditional love. I think I’m ready. I hope I’m ready. I pray I’m ready. Ready for you. Show me. Think I’m not ready? Think there’s something I can’t handle? Show me more. You won’t scare me away. I promise. And I don’t promise lightly. I might not be much, but I’m honest. I might not always know what I need, I might not even know exactly what I want or who I am, but here I am wanting you. All of you. Everything you are and can be. Everything you might be. Everything that we might be. So, show me. Show me you. Hey, you. It was and is and will always be nice to meet you.
To most men, a woman’s body can be inviting and perhaps intimidating, but only the expression of a woman’s face can be truly accepting and challenging. Be “a face man.” Be a man who scans a woman’s face to try to read what you can of her story there. See if, by her eyes, you can catch a glimpse of her experiences. Try to picture her naked soul. If you can meet her mother, see if she has laugh lines; if she doesn’t, I’d be worried about what the daughter might turn into. Do the curves around her mouth appear to be sagging from frequent frowns, or do they rest easy in lulls between her gravity-defying smiles? And flexibility is always a plus. Is she the kind of woman whose face is always in more or less the same position, or does she constantly contort in ways both unexpected and undeniably enjoyable? Most importantly, could you look into that face forever? Can those eyes be your first contact every morning and your last contact at night and for the rest of your life? Can you accept and embrace those as your last pair of eyes? There are fewer and fewer men who can. And that is the challenge. Stare full in the face of a love that accepts you, accept it, and don’t blink.
The boys when they really were boys.
Instead of writing,
I would rather be saying
all these words to you.
Of course I’ll hurt you. Of course you’ll hurt me. Of course we will hurt each other. But this is the very condition of existence. To become spring, means accepting the risk of winter. To become presence, means accepting the risk of absence.–
"… and I question the connections that we made"
Thanks for the reminder, tho, you.
(Source: itsthewaitingunknown)Via Led Fleetwood
im at my church and im using the wifi here and i look to see what my connections are and
I remember a time that I paid her a compliment
And she looked all confused like she couldn’t tell
what my words had meant
Turned, slightly incredulous, but a truly surprised, “What?”
A reaction that said I was the first to say
she had a nice butt
And I reacted more strongly, wondering why
no other guy had said
What I’d just said to be honest, not to get inside her head
Not in bed
No such dance
Just a boyfriend telling his girlfriend
something mattering to him in that moment
A sort of pleasant torment
that I thought was clear
But apparently, it was something that she needed to hear
So much fear in the hearts of chubby girls and skinny guys
Spindly arms or touching thighs
We all think we have our reasons to feel worthless
to the opposite sex
I still get nervous shirtless
because my pects might not be shaped right
If I flex, cancel date night
They’ll all just laugh at me
Behind my back, it’d be
Not unlike catastrophe
to any hopes of attraction
That’s the reaction I expect
We fear the worst
Brainwashed into thinking we’re cursed by our physique
if it’s even the least bit unique
Then I suddenly remember
a real moment in a real September
You don’t forget when the truth really lands
And that beautiful woman was under my hands
And love was made
'Cause love had stayed long enough to appreciate the view
So, maybe one day
I might hear a woman say
that I am beautiful, too
Another of those photos that was even more perfect for having Nick Drake paying behind it :)
So often, I dive too deep
Occasionally coming up for air a blowhard
And whether or not I come up
with any pearls of wisdom
I will always continue to dive
I would love for someone to dive with me
Someone to hold her breath
(Someone from whom I could take it away)
and take the plunge
As my ego-erring huge head bobs to the surface
this question also comes up:
Is she deep enough?
That is to ask, how far can she dive?
How far is she willing to go with me?
Can she fathom the journey
I want to share?
So, beautiful, are you deep enough?
Well, what do you love?
How does it draw you? How do you love?
Does it spring from your essence for the elemental?
Do you dig down to get to the bottom of love?
Do you lose yourself until you find love?
Do you divine love?
Does its water live in you?
Does it renew you?
Would it renew me?
Dive down to find me?
Bring me up for air?
i do some bad things
sometimes just to make sense that
they happen to me