Here is a little secret. I know what’s important to us. Lost things. Lost notes. Lost photographs. Lost books. Lost memories. All things lost will forever retain perfection. They never rusted, they never broke. Because something lost only exists in the mind. It has no flaws. It has no mistakes. It is perfect. Only the things you no longer have, and will never have, can be perfect.

- Whispered Seductively by Anonyme

(Source: mols)

So I’ll tie it to my finger. I’ll tattoo it to my skin. The scent of you it lingers, you are my greatest sin. Your long hair entangles me. Strangles me. And you loosen your grip. You let me trace you with these hands, caressing those delicate hips.

- Whispered Seductively by Anonyme

(Source: mols)

I was thinking, today. And I felt a tingle behind my breastbone; do you know that feeling? It buzzes outward in your chest, and slowly slips down your arms, stuttering at your palms, then oozing into your fingers, a familiar electric pulse. Hope, unbidden, that the mind does not want to recognize for fear of sudden, catastrophic disappointment.

- Whispered Seductively by Anonyme

(Source: mols)

Her jaw line was delicate and fragile. Impeded smile lines divided her cheek bones and ever so voluptuous lips. Her too perfect teeth sat evenly as she slid her serpent tongue seductively over them, ending at the corner, dampening the very crease of her mouth where she hid only her deepest, darkest desires. She could still taste him. His saliva still iced her bottom lip, a damp layer of lust and regret was all that remained.

- Whispered Seductively by Anonyme

(Source: mols)

I wanted something to tell me, warn me, save me from all the unnecessary wallowing, the needless sprawling and meandering and waiting. From all the wasted brain space. From everything. A lurking entity to subside the conspicuous sadness, the endless agonizing for something unattainable, some out-of-reach, hopeless dream. save me from this hopeless, ill-faded trance.

- Whispered Seductively by Anonyme

(Source: mols)

The hands that once gently caressed the contours of my naked body felt cold and unfamiliar against the heated skin of my back. His lips used to tickle my ears, whispering words that made my cheeks flood with color. Those same words now send shivers down my spine as a feeling of disgust envelops my trembling frame.

- Whispered Seductively by Anonyme

(Source: mols)

Perhaps the most beautiful things must come from pain. Tragedy has a terrible wonder all its own. Genius is tortured, romantics tantalized by that which they know is impossible yet for which they yearn. The capacity for hope is interwoven with the capacity to desire. It is the most purely human of the base instincts, every man’s greatest triumph and failure in one. I am intimately familiar with loss. And though I am without god to pray to I must yet hope against hopes that I will not lose again.

- Whispered Seductively by Anonyme

(Source: mols)

but what is this- this anguish, this agony, this aching desire to get out of my own skin. what is this urge, this hunger, this yearning. to be anything else. to crave anything else. the ambiguity destroys me. the delusional reality that leaves me quivering, trembling in my own self-inflicted fear.

- Whispered Seductively by Anonyme

(Source: mols)

It’s not right to feel like everyone hates you. The doctor gave me the little brown pill and went on his way, but I wonder what it’s really done. The worry remains like the scars on my skin that I’m too afraid to make. Oh, but they’re there. I long to feel the laughs I paint on my face, the mask that feels oh so very real. That’s what practice will do for you. But at the end of the day, all that remains is my fear and worryworryworry. Why do I worry so well, but never seem to feel?

- Whispered Seductively by Anonyme

(Source: mols)

(Source: mols)