featherquillgirl:

I want a boy who reads. I want a boy who finds beauty behind words that to others mean little, who revels in the mystery of worn-out books and the heart of rhythm and rhyme. He will be the one to deconstruct the poem in me, to spread out my limbs and see the void between the implicit and the explicit. He will be the one to decode the metaphors in my eyes and understand the symbols in the soft, hushed way that I speak. 

More than that, though, I want a boy who writes. I want a boy who does not simply grasp the beauty in someone else’s fables but also creates it. This boy will know that some stories are never meant to be told, that words have in them more sway than even the strongest of the winds. His letters will dance across my skin and slip into the recesses of my consciousness, armoring me with the secret to breathing. 

Find me a boy who does both and I will open myself up like a glass prism in his hands in gentle surrender, corners unfolding with scraps of ideas and badly kept secrets. Then, and only then, will I stay.

(Source: xfeatherquill)