I want you to bite my lip until I can no longer speak,
and then suck my ex-girlfriends name out of my mouth
just to make sure she never comes up in our conversations.
I want you to come to me like an afternoon.
Come to me slowly as if you were a broken sunset
with a lazy sky on your shoulders.
If you let me be your sunlight,
I promise that I will penetrate your darkness
until you speak in angel wings.
Pull me close to you.
Tell me that you love me
and then scratch your future into my back
so I could be everything that you live for.
I promise that I will die for you daily
and then resurrect in your screams.
I promise that I will love you.
I promise that I will love you as if it’s the only thing
that I’ve ever done correctly.

Rudy Francisco / Love Poem (via incavato)

(Source: connotativewords)

annamakesthings:

things i told the internet, but didn’t tell my mom
35mm film scans
some pictures about my backwards concept of privacy.

i. it’s getting bad again
ii. this week i am struggling with self doubt and the transition from iced coffee to hot coffee
iii. i want to puke and sleep for six days
iv. i still can’t sit on your couch without shaking
v. i need other people to validate that i am important because i can’t do it for myself
vi. no one else has ever told me that i am desirable with the lights on

praiseful:

savagekittens:

turkeytree:

chelseaalysse:

"Everything in my head went quiet. 

All the ticks, all the constantly refreshing images just disappeared. 

When you have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, you don’t really get quiet moments. 

Even in bed, I’m thinking: 
Did I lock the doors? Yes. 
Did I wash my hands? Yes. 
Did I lock the doors? Yes. 
Did I wash my hands? Yes. 
But when I saw her, the only thing I could think about was the hairpin curve of her lips.. 
Or the eyelash on her cheek- 
the eyelash on her cheek- 
the eyelash on her cheek. 
I knew I had to talk to her. 
I asked her out six times in thirty seconds. 
She said yes after the third one, but none of them felt right, so I had to keep going. 
On our first date, I spent more time organizing my meal by color than I did eating it, or talking to her.. 
But she loved it. 
She loved that I had to kiss her goodbye sixteen times or twenty-four times at different times of the day. 
She loved that it took me forever to walk home because there are lots of cracks on our sidewalk. 
When we moved in together, she said she felt safe, like no one would ever rob us because I definitely lock the door eighteen times. 
I’d always watch her mouth when she talked- 
when she talked- 
when she talked- 
when she talked; 
when she said she loved me, her mouth would curl up at the edges. 
At night, she’d lay in bed and watch me turn all the lights off.. And on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off, and on, and off. 
She’d close her eyes and imagine that the days and nights were passing in front of her. 
But then.. She said I was taking up too much of her time. 
That I couldn’t kiss her goodbye so much because I was making her late for work.. 
When she said she loved me, her mouth was a straight line.. 
When I stopped in front of a crack in the sidewalk, she just kept walking.. 
And last week she started sleeping at her mother’s place. 
She told me that she shouldn’t have let me get so attached to her; that this whole thing was a mistake, but.. 
How can it be a mistake that I don’t have to wash my hands after I touch her? 
Love is not a mistake, and it’s killing me that she can run away from this and I just can’t. 
I can’t go out and find someone new because I always think of her. 
Usually, when I obsess over things, I see germs sneaking into my skin. 
I see myself crushed my an endless succession of cars.. 
And she was the first beautiful thing I ever got stuck on. 
I want to wake up every morning thinking about the way she holds her steering wheel.. 
How she turns shower knobs like she opening a safe. 
How she blows out candles- 
blows out candles- 
blows out candles- 
blows out candles- 
blows out-…. 
Now, I just think about who else is kissing her. 
I can’t breathe because he only kisses her once-he doesn’t care if it’s perfect! 
I want her back so bad.. 
I leave the door unlocked. 
I leave the lights on. ”

I’ve always seen this gif and never really understood it till now. So heartbreaking. 

this whole thing really fucks me up man

Right in the heart, while my brain says oh no not again, stop wasting tears, he proved you’re not the only one.

my eyes are watering i can’t this is dfkjghkjdfg

(Source: edgarwrights)

Fire and Earth: Goodbye for now

cashmere-cascade:

I did my last goodbye…for now… with my ex beautiful love. I hate the term “ex-boyfriend”- unless it was a bad relationship. He doesn’t deserve to be called that. What we had was something so blissful and majestic, so beautiful and unexplainable. I said my last peaceful goodbye to him… I cried like…

hayfuckyou:

yumcircles:


If you close your eyes just as it crashes, you feel really relaxed because your brain thinks you’ve actually died for a second.

it scares me how relaxed my brain actually was when i closed my eyes wow

forever reblog

hayfuckyou:

yumcircles:

If you close your eyes just as it crashes, you feel really relaxed because your brain thinks you’ve actually died for a second.

it scares me how relaxed my brain actually was when i closed my eyes wow

forever reblog

1. Spit it into her voice-mail, a little slurred and sounding like the shot whiskey you downed for courage. Feel as ashamed as you do walking into work in last night’s clothes. Wake up cringing for days, waiting for her to mention it.

2. Sigh it into her mouth, wedged in between teeth and tongues. Don’t even let your lips move when you say it, ever so lightly, into the air. Maybe it was just an exhalation of ecstasy.

3. Buy her flowers. Buy her chocolate. Buy her a teddy bear, because that’s what every romantic comedy has taught you. Take her out to a nice restaurant where neither of you feel comfortable and spend the whole night clearing your throat and tugging at your tie. Feel like your actions are more suited to a proposal than the simple confession of something you’ve always known.

4. Whisper it into her hair in the middle of the night, after you’ve counted the space between her breaths and are certain she’s asleep. Shut your eyes quickly when she shifts toward you in askance. Maybe you were just sleep whispering.

5. Blurt it out in the middle of an impromptu dance party in the kitchen, as clumsy as your two left feet. When time seems to freeze, hastily tack on “in that shirt” or “when you make your award-winning meatballs” or, if you are feeling particularly brave, “when we do this.” Resume dancing and pretend you don’t feel her eyes on you the rest of the night.

6. Write her a letter in which the amount of circumnavigating and angst could rival Mr. Darcy’s. Debate where to leave it all day – on her pillow? In her coat pocket? Throw it away in frustration, conveniently leaving it face up in the trashcan, her name scrawled on the front in your sloppy handwriting. Let her wonder if you meant it.

7. Wait until something terrible has happened and you can’t not tell her anymore. Wait until she almost gets hit by a car crossing Wabash against the light and after you are done cursing at the shit-for-brains cab drivers in this city, realize you are actually just terrified of living without her. Tell her with your hands shaking.

8. Say it deliberately, your tongue a springboard for every syllable. Over coffee, brushing your teeth side-by-side, as you turn off the light to go to sleep – it doesn’t matter where. Do not adorn it with extra words like “I think” or “I might.” Do not sigh heavily as if admitting it were a burden instead of the most joyous thing you’ve ever done. Look her in the eyes and pray, heart thumping wildly, that she will turn to you and say, “I love you too.”

R. McKinley, “8 Ways To Say I Love You“    (via pale-afternoon)

(Source: baveuile)

carry-on-my-wayward-butt:

kurobi:

steve-leif-kareha:

laurenfrommars:

elder—goose:

yorufrost:

psychohorror:

 Children’s Worst Nightmares by Joshua Hoffine

This is fucking incredible 

Can we talk about how the cubes on the last pic spell “Daddy no”

I remember the release of the last image, a few some odd years ago, on DA. It caused quite a rabble, the artist explaining that not all monsters are from a child’s imagination.

oh

(Source: chamamael)

My mother tells me
that when I meet someone I like,
I have to ask them three questions:

1. what are you afraid of?
2. do you like dogs?
3. what do you do when it rains?

of those three, she says the first one is the most important.
“They gotta be scared of something, baby. Everybody is. If they aren’t afraid of anything, then they don’t believe in anything, either.”

I met you on a Sunday, right
after church.
one look and my heart fell into
my stomach like a trap door.

on our second date,
I asked you what you were afraid of.
“spiders, mostly. being alone. little children, like, the ones who just learned how to push a kid over on the playground. oh and space. holy shit, space.”
I asked you if you liked dogs.
“I have three.”
I asked you what you do when it rains.
“sleep, mostly. sometimes I sit at the window and watch the rain droplets race. I make a shelter out of plastic in my backyard for all the stray animals; leave them food and a place to sleep.”

he smiled like he knew.
like his mom told him the same
thing.
“how about you?”

me?
I’m scared of everything.
of the hole in the o-zone layer,
of the lady next door who never
smiles at her dog,
and especially of all the secrets
the government must be breaking
it’s back trying to keep from us.
I love dogs so much, you have no idea.
I sleep when it rains.
I want to tell everyone I love them.
I want to find every stray animal and bring them home.
I want to wake up in your hair
and make you shitty coffee
and kiss your neck
and draw silly stick figures of us.
I never want to ask anyone else
these questions
ever again.

three questions | Caitlyn Siehl  (via angebhan)

(Source: alonesomes)