state of grace
Tricia. Sixteen. Bands and books. A lover of all things Harry Potter. Previously indulgen-ce.

that’s how
she described
simply a
mess that is
composed of
bits and pieces
she could never
glue together.

But she never
saw how
her disarray
of scars,
and flaws
make up
bigger than

She was
a mosaic,
a masterpiece
of scraps
strung together,
that there is
beauty in

Mosaic by MP
The leaves were falling
at the same time as her tears.
Together, they mourn. I broke down during fall (via ofalmosts)
Is there really something for her out there?
Across the oceans, somewhere far away?
Will she find happiness one day?
Despite everything that comes her way?
How long does she have to wait?
How long does she have to pray,
to hope,
to wish,
to believe?
Is there really something for her out there?
Or is she just thinking wishfully? (via ofalmosts)




I know that there was no use 
wasting my time on you. 
You consumed me, 
in all ways possible, 
and for a really long time, 
I thought it was a good thing.

I held on to the hope 
that maybe, 
just maybe, 
with a little work, 
and enough patience, 
my efforts will be reciprocated.

As the clock ticked, 
and I was far from the finish line, 
I thought about giving up. 
Would stopping 
mean cowardice 
or bravery? 

I stopped to breathe, 
I stopped to think, 
I stopped to take it all in. 
That was when I realized 
that it was foolish to believe 
this would end happily.

So I gave up the fight 
and I closed the door, 
because like two raised to fifty-four
it was stupid of me 
to even think about 
wasting my precious time on you.



Pretending the void isn’t there
won’t make it go away;
there is just a hole
in that big, empty space.

There is that haunting fear
that in the world we’re in,
our soul is destined
for mere could have beens.

The light illuminating
is all but bleak.
Life is nothing
but a great mystique.


I’ve always believed
that falling in love
was the cure
to my brokenness.

But everytime I fell
and no one caught me,
I broke more.