You’ve got a pretty mean mouth.
You’ve got a pretty way about you when you drown me out.
Christopher Poindexter (via vacants)
is like drinking sea water.
The more I drink
the thirstier I become,
until nothing can slake my thirst
but to drink the entire sea.
Kenneth Rexroth, The Love Poems of Marichiko: VII (via mrsclarkkent)
Francesca Lia Block, Wasteland (via budddha)
Pavana पवन (via maza-dohta)
Three years later, a new girl sits cross-legged on your bed. She tastes like a different flavor of bubblegum than you are used to. She opens up a book that you had to read in high school, and a folded picture of us falls out of chapter three. Now there are two unfinished stories resting in her lap. Inevitably, she asks, and you tell her.
You say: I dated her a while back. You don’t say: Sometimes, when I’m holding you, I imagine the smell of her vanilla perfume.
You say: She was younger than me. You don’t say: The sixteen summers in her bones warmed the eighteen winters my skin had weathered.
You say: It’s nothing now. You don’t say: But it was everything then.
Some things are better left unsaid (via accidentul)
god idk how i feel about this