Typewriter Series #366 by Tyler Knott Gregson

Missing someone is like hearing
a name sung quietly from somewhere
behind you. Even after you know
no one is there, you keep looking back
until on a silver afternoon like this
you find yourself breathing just enough
to make a small dent in the air….

I remember holding you against the sink,
with the sun soaking the window, the soft call
of your hips, and the intricate flickers
of thought chiming your eyes. Your mouth,
like a Saturday. I remember your
long thighs, how they
opened on the sofa, and the pulse
of your cry when you came, and
sometimes I miss you
the way someone drowning
remembers the air.

— Excerpt from “Slow Dance,” Tim Seibles (via commovente)


Staff Note: This is so heart-wrenching.
This woman has a hold on my heart that I could not break if I wanted to. And there have been times when I have wanted to. It has been overwhelming and humbling and even painful at times, but I could not stop loving her anymore than I could stop breathing. I am hopelessly, irretrievably in love with her, more than she knows.

untitled by hayley.brown on Flickr.
(via TumbleOn)

If I will never wake up anymore, I want you to know that I died happy (knowing that you are my last).

Recently, I’ve been looking for a reason to love life. And then I looked at you.
Today, I learned that you are my answer. The only answer I’ll ever need to my questions.
First family photo. ❤

If this all goes wrong,
I just need you to know that it’s okay.
We agreed, sink or swim,
and I’m just happy that we made it to the water.


i’m coming home (by emily cain)
She begs me to stay,

but she didn’t need to ask me to. Because I will.