In French, you don’t really say “I miss you.” You say “tu me manques,” which is closer to “you are missing from me.”
I love that. “You are missing from me.” You are a part of me, you are essential to my being. You are like a limb, or an organ, or blood. I cannot function without you.
(Source: timorleste, via admirari)
So much ambition
But no motivation
And if one were fed
Off my life’s narration
They would soon suffer
severe starvation
Who would want me.
I’m so fucking boring.
As the lights fall to none,
I twist and turn in bed,
Reflecting on those that I shun,
And all the secrets I have read.
As the world falls asleep,
Drifting to their own sweet dreams,
I have a secret to keep,
Insomnia, a problem it seems.
You heard the story wrong
You probably got it from Jill
See Jack, he never walked
He ran fast up that hill
Not looking for a girl
But just a little fun
And suddenly from the woods
That’s when it all begun.
He ran into this girl
She said her name was Jill
She said you look so lonely
And would you like a thrill.
They say poor young Jack
Was stunned and couldn’t move
A soul in which he destined
A beauty did she prove
He wasn’t planted for long
As it went the way of Jill
The hurtfulness of love;
She pushed him down the hill
She should have had a sign
That says to stay away
But that paining push
Is how destined girls play.
Labored gifts true
Only to convention,
A tiresome gaze for
The cold rendition.One and one,
All and none,
Too and fro,
All night long.Categorical placement
Holds a place within an
Unhealthy love for destruction
And a longing to love demise.The inevitable always
Hanging above,
Poised for ruining longevity
And devoted to demoting
This love.Meant to be,
To be together.Meant to be,
To fall apart.The simple worn story of the heart.
wow!
