All You Had To Do Was Stay.
All you had to do was stay.
More Posts from Lostpoetessspace and Others
Of all the things that remind me of love, cats are at the top of the list. Their eyes hold something different, something enchanting, like a silent understanding of the world around them. They love in their own way—warm, selfish, and a little bratty, like a child who thinks you belong to them. Sometimes, they act like your baby, sometimes like your boss. Every single one of them has a personality that makes me want to meet them all, build a whole cat family, and just exist among them.
Orange cats are pure chaos, but somehow the softest souls. White cats carry themselves like royalty, too elegant to bother with the rest of the world. Gray cats act all calm and collected, but they’re little troublemakers once you know them. Black cats hold a quiet kind of love, the kind that feels steady and safe. And tuxedo cats walk around like they own the place, like they just left a fancy dinner party and decided to grace us with their presence.
Every cat feels like a reflection of someone, a reminder of a certain kind of soul. And the best thing about them? When one chooses you, they’re yours forever. They love in a way that’s awkward yet endearing, poking at you when you’re sad, pulling away just to come right back. And the way they get jealous when you pet another cat? Nothing beats that.
There’s nothing quite like having a cat in your life, feeding them, talking to them, sharing a space where words aren’t needed. In a way, they remind me of my inner child—curious, stubborn, and full of love in ways that don’t always make sense. Maybe every cat carries a little piece of someone, a little piece of us. But all I know is, I love them, and I’ll never get tired of saying it.
There is so much stubborn hope in the human heart.
Albert Camus
im better off alone
Drowned head to toe, Left breathless, but still filled with it. It’s like the feeling I have towards you, Slowly, gradually, consuming the cells, consuming the air.. Used to the pull, Didn't try to swim away, Until I forgot I was drowning. My mind floats high, My soul drifts weightless, Until suddenly— The water disappears. Was it ever here? It’s your hands, Reaching through the surface. Maybe I was never really drowning, Maybe it was always you I was submerged in, And yet my hands choose yours, As a way to survive this.
Lying beneath the sky,
Cradled by the whispers of the wind,
Tracing the memory of your browns—soft, endless.
I breathe life in every shade of you,
And through loving you,
I learn the language of existence itself.
How can a color so simple feel so rare?
How does life itself surrender to a look?
How do your eyes carry all of this?
When did all the time I lived without them vanish into nothing?
