| i look up to the sun, it only hurts my eyes maybe it's the answer i've been wanting in disguise. music isn't my life, but it is the majority of it. i have a strange obsession with ribs/hips. i'm aichmophobic, but only a little. |
you're impossible to find.his name was like the feeling you get when the phone rings and your heart skips a beat because you're not really expecting it. like, that time when you were seven and playing hide-and-seek in the dark was the best high. especially when you find that perfect spot, and everything is dead quiet so you hold your breath because breathing might give away your hiding place.you're impossible to find.
his cheeks were like that teddy bear your best friend had when you were six. the one she carried everywhere but wouldn't let you hold because it was hers and not yours. so you watched her hug it and pet it's soft fur, and you go home and cry because your mother told
you walk away, i'll walk awayi have finally found he who makes me smile but seems she found him first.you walk away, i'll walk away
anxiety is the new blackdear you: i think you need some help.anxiety is the new black
i won’t tell anyone about that one time you came to school bearing bruises on your hips and hiding scratches across your ribs.
i won’t call your mother and tell her maybe you should see someone
about the nausea you feel because you haven’t eaten in a day.
i won’t pray to god that he will send some sort of miracle your way because you never believed in him anyway.
i won’t wish on any dandelions for you, because you always told me &
the sweetest soundDear diary, there’s a girl that lives down my street. she’s sitting on the porch of her house staring at three identical wind chimes hanging from the rafters. she is singing to them softly, as they hit each other and make a perfect echo. her chair creaks as it rocks back and forth.the sweetest sound
Dear diary,
there’s a girl that lives down my street. and i see her in her backyard, painting pictures of the family of swallows nested in her favourite tree. she smiles as they sing to the rhythm of her brush strokes.
Dear diary, there’s a girl that lives down my street. she walks d
Dear EverythingDear dead girl buried under this rain-smoothed tombstone:Dear Everything
We all have our demons. Some of us are bulimic and some of us are gamblers and some of us are drinking and smoking ourselves to cowards' graves. Some of us have trouble remembering our children's names and sit on the floor of the shower every morning and stare blearily at our wrists or ankles while the water hits us in the eyes and wonder what caused our wives to leave us with the debt and responsibility while they get to go off, carefree, steady incomes, life renewed and restored and maybe these kids aren't even mine at all and maybe they're Mike's, that guy you worked wi
this could be usI like to dream.this could be us
I dream that it was night outside your windows and your pale hands were pulling me inside your covers. I dream that the sheets were pulled over our scalps and we were lying with our foreheads pressed together and smiles plastered across our faces. Our knees were bumping and our hipbones were fitting together and your voice was a whisper as you apologized for the fact that your toes are freezing. My fingers were splayed across the curve of your spine and my lips were barely brushing against yours as they whispered back that you're too far away, if you were closer I could keep you warmer. And your hands were in my
Gir
| i look up to the sun, it only hurts my eyes maybe it's the answer i've been wanting in disguise. music isn't my life, but it is the majority of it. i have a strange obsession with ribs/hips. i'm aichmophobic, but only a little. |
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raphael does photography, too!
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Is it too much to ask for a hug?
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It is not the eastern shore that worries me. A shadow and a threat have been growing in my mind. Something draws near, I can feel it. [Legolas ♥]
♥ My Forum (italian) ♥
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