everything i like

everything i like

1,226 notes

tylerknott:


Typewriter Series #758 by Tyler Knott Gregson
Text for Tired Eyes:
I want to be your fanciest shoes and I want to be the way they actually hurt so you cannot wait to take them off.  I want to be the sound of fingernails begin clipped in bathroom  walls when the clock is rounding 12 and searching for single digits again.  I want to be secretly annoyed you never clean them up.  I want lazy Sundays and busy Saturdays and the freedom Friday brings and the apprehension of a Thursday at 2:45 pm and the quite moments reading on a Wednesday when it snows and a Tuesday where we rent the best new movies and a Monday filled with lethargy.  I want the weeks and the months of you but I want the hours and the seconds more. I want the tiny ticks between a second and I want whatever lives between those. I want to be all the fairytales we tell all the kids we ever meet and the way we are actually talking about ourselves.  I want the Christmas lights and the glow in your eyes and the sound of paper crinkling and the little bits of glitter dust left after tying all the bows.  I want the dancing.  All the dancing in all the places to all the songs and the shuffling of two sets of feet that have waited a lifetime to orbit each other.  I want the road and the sky and the plane and the car and the exhaustion and the elation and the sea and the mountains high.  I want the fever you chill and the cold you soothe and the drive to the hospital when the room must be of an emergency variety.  I want the humming and I want the soft lullaby of your sleeping next to me.  I want to be the one to remind you of the strength you’ve always been made of and I want to be the one to hold you when adrenaline is all that remains when that strength runs out.  I want to be the reminder that you don’t ever need a reminder that you are made of wild things and they frolic inside you without a single thought to who may be watching or what thoughts might be filling their heads.  I want to be the eyes that widen on your face as you realize your worth.  I want to be the roots of you and the soil they love the taste of.
Part Four.

tylerknott:

Typewriter Series #758 by Tyler Knott Gregson

Text for Tired Eyes:

I want to be your fanciest shoes and I want to be the way they actually hurt so you cannot wait to take them off.  I want to be the sound of fingernails begin clipped in bathroom  walls when the clock is rounding 12 and searching for single digits again.  I want to be secretly annoyed you never clean them up.  I want lazy Sundays and busy Saturdays and the freedom Friday brings and the apprehension of a Thursday at 2:45 pm and the quite moments reading on a Wednesday when it snows and a Tuesday where we rent the best new movies and a Monday filled with lethargy.  I want the weeks and the months of you but I want the hours and the seconds more. I want the tiny ticks between a second and I want whatever lives between those. I want to be all the fairytales we tell all the kids we ever meet and the way we are actually talking about ourselves.  I want the Christmas lights and the glow in your eyes and the sound of paper crinkling and the little bits of glitter dust left after tying all the bows.  I want the dancing.  All the dancing in all the places to all the songs and the shuffling of two sets of feet that have waited a lifetime to orbit each other.  I want the road and the sky and the plane and the car and the exhaustion and the elation and the sea and the mountains high.  I want the fever you chill and the cold you soothe and the drive to the hospital when the room must be of an emergency variety.  I want the humming and I want the soft lullaby of your sleeping next to me.  I want to be the one to remind you of the strength you’ve always been made of and I want to be the one to hold you when adrenaline is all that remains when that strength runs out.  I want to be the reminder that you don’t ever need a reminder that you are made of wild things and they frolic inside you without a single thought to who may be watching or what thoughts might be filling their heads.  I want to be the eyes that widen on your face as you realize your worth.  I want to be the roots of you and the soil they love the taste of.

Part Four.

2 notes

I am better.

I took a breath: a deep, lung-filling, chest expanding breath. And I realized, I have everything I’ve ever wanted right in front of me. 

I got tired of looking back, of re-reading the same old story. I am writing a new, better tale. One of love, laughter, and adventure. 

One day I will be tracing the tattoos of the places we’ve been together, of my name, and I will only look for more.