C.S. Lewis, “The Four Loves” (via lifeinpoetry)
This is the story…
something my 10th grade history teacher told me about how he knew he wanted to marry his wife (via sexual-feelings)
This is jewels…
Him: I miss you like crazy
Me: I know. I kept feeling my vagina pulsate and knew you remembered how I fucked you.
Here is some advice and I want you to listen to it very, very closely:
If they don’t want to be with you now, they will not want to be with you later on. You should not stand at the doorway of any person and beg to be let in. You should never dig in your chest, extract your heart and hand it bloody and beating to them, like a dog offering up a possum to his master. If they wanted your heart, they would have broken down the cage of your ribs to get at it.
See, love is the strongest current, the greatest force, the heaviest mass that no one has ever been able to measure. It does not see race, distance, age, disability, sexual orientation, gender identity. Love just is—it is all powerful and it is all encompassing. You feel it like hurricane forced winds, 1,000 volts of electricity, a billion newtons.
Love is powered by the heat of the sun and the wax and wane of the moon. Once it is dead, once the sun has cast a shadow over it, there is no reviving it. You can shine all the sun you want on their heart, but if they do not love you there is no turning over that engine. It is never going to come out of the shadows and wrap itself around you.
No one is ever ‘ready’ to love, but they know when they want to. If you offer up your heart like a big bloody steak and someone shrugs their shoulders and says, “I am a vegetarian.” You shouldn’t keep lingering on the borders of their life hoping that one day they are going to roll over, start eating meat, and choose your heart to devour first.
There are few people in the world worth waiting for, worth standing around in the rain for. Most people are not albino turtles—they are not that rare. That person you are waiting for is not the great Russian Yeti, but yet you are spending your entire fucking life being young, and gorgeous, and talented waiting in a tree for him to come out of hiding and into your trap.
I think it’s time you got out of the tree, okay? I think it’s time you came down, okay? Down here to the world of the living, where great people will take your heart, keep it in a glass case, water it when it is wilting, feed it when it is peckish, put it to bed when it is tired. Sure, you might miss the thrill of the hunt, the excitement of the chase, but one day you’re going to look back and realize that the only reason that Yeti kept letting you chase him, the only reason he didn’t lose you in the forest all this time, was because you made him feel important, special, wanted.
And you deserve to feel that way too, you know?
You deserve it just as much as anyone else.
Maybe even more than the rest.
|—||Kristen Fiore, A Tree is No Place for Your Heart (via versteur)|
"It is the beads that makes the buttocks to shake" - Yoruba saying
Women of the African diaspora have, for centuries, displayed the beauty and femininity of the female form through the use of waistbeads. The practice varies, but one main theme (among many) emerges. Among Yoruba, there is a belief that the waist beads posses strong erotic appeal, and serves to lure their spouse or an interested man to the bed of a fetching Yoruba woman…
I will let you be the judge…
I got a couple already and they kinna do make my hps look much better when I walk.