When you fall in love, it is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake, and then it subsides. And when it subsides, you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the desire to mate every second of the day. It is not lying awake at night imagining that he is kissing every part of your body. No… don’t blush. I am telling you some truths. For that is just being in love; which any of us can convince ourselves we are. Love itself is what is left over, when being in love has burned away.
— Captain Corelli’s Mandolin

I've been lacking wisdom and words.

I like when we sit in the candlelight, sipping latte’s in the cafe that I work at.
I like those nights when I get to work alone, and close alone.
There’s such a peace that comes with a warm cafe,
deathcab playing over the speakers,
a fireplace in the corner, the couches watching it’s flames intently.
I like when I turn off the lights, and the open sign isn’t glowing anymore.
it’s 10:00,
but we’re still inside.
Like nobody can reach us, because nobody is allowed inside but us.
I like when we sit and talk,
I like when we sit in silence.
I like listening to the steady beating of your heart,
there’s something so comforting in that rhythm.
I wish I could make a song of it.
I like when you try to pick apart my thoughts by watching the way my hands move, the way my lips move, the rapidness of my step.
I like it when you ask, instead.
I miss my hermit days, I’m losing track of myself.
You say you’re bringing me down, stealing my passion.
You tell me that I’m making you better, but you feel you’re making me worse.
It’s not true.  But I miss some of the solitude and loneliness.
I need that loneliness sometimes, it brings the words that I can make songs out of.
It brings the tears that artfully stain patterns on my pillow.
I still cry, I still feel,
sad
but only sometimes.
It’s been getting cold out, and my fingers feel weaker, whiter, bonier.
Winter sucks the life out of me some days.
It’s easier to stay in bed with a good book.
My life is going somewhere, I see it.
I see you in it.

The summer months, left me alone
but the fall rolled in, on the back of a storm.
In the night, you and I drove
have you ever seen, lightning and snow?

Don’t be like that, don’t be like that.

HEYGUESSWHAT;;

kenzieshae:

Mary Tea + Scott Masikewich + Kenzie Bourque = GREATEST THING THE WORLD HAS EVER SEEN

That’s right, world.

Be jealous.

Given my lady.

Tell me a little something about love.

These words, these definitions, 
it’s too much.
What is truth?  What is love?

I have the Moleskine dayplanner, and the Moleskine lined journal.
But I really want the Moleskine blank page journal,
because lately I feel like the lines are trying to interfere with my thoughts.

If bridges gotta fall, then you'll fall too.

current state of the union

some things have been staying the same,  I adorn my fingers in the same big rings, use the same facewash, drink the same brew of coffee, repeat the same songs.
some things have changed, I started learning guitar, budgeting paychecks, letting myself love you, making myself vulnerable, wearing less makeup, listening to new songs.
I’ve been planning my eighteenth birthday party, and my current mood doesn’t match the thoughts of it.  It will be huge, successful, and naturally out of control.  I invited too many people, but I can’t wait to dance.  I can’t wait to decorate, and take photo’s downtown with my best ladies under the city lights.  I can’t wait for the limo ride, and the surprises the night will have in store.  I’ve been too busy, with work.  It’s good for me though.  Routine is good, to a certain extent.  It’s almost reaching the extent.  I miss reading books and going to bed in the morning, waking up at dinnertime.  I’ve been feeling that restlessness that overwhelms me now and then—the one that makes me run away far away alone.  The one that makes me force something different upon my life.  The one that makes me make mistakes only so that I can fix them and find relationships and aspects of life stronger afterwards, leaving me believing it was never a mistake at all.  They are never mistakes, I still know it.  I miss talking with my dad.  Today I was told that I’m not very materialistic at all, that they could see me living with close to nothing and getting by just fine.  I was pleased to hear this.  I don’t know what else to say I guess.  There’s some sort of a blockage lately,  I haven’t been noticing the beauty as much as I should be, so there’s a wall preventing me from writing beautiful things.  I need to slow down, take the C-train for a couple of hours with my music.  I miss my girls, and I worry for them too.  Not all is at peace in most lives these days it seems.  This is a transition my friends,  things will look up soon enough.  Hold onto love.

It's hurting a lot.

You say my cheeks are always warm.
Don’t you know my temperature rises for you?
I also believe the sun rises for you.