6782 notes Reblog

5 months ago

95 notes Reblog

6 months ago

1567 notes Reblog

8 months ago


It’s time to fix this. Click here if you agree: http://wefb.it/sLChCA
26 notes Reblog

1 year ago


Heart Me :) on We Heart It. http://weheartit.com/entry/56476906/via/SoulVirus
511 notes Reblog

1 year ago

Sois serieux. (Je suis farouche.): You Look Great


“You look great.”
What a strange thing to say to someone,
As if that erases everything else
They’ve ever said to you
(You’re beautiful
You’re perfect
I love you
I want you)
And replaces it with something
You would toss to a casual acquaintance
That you pass on the street
Or on the subway
Or in the…

(Source: creepy-que3n)

679 notes Reblog

1 year ago

Hollowed Boy: reasons to love me


Because I have a wandering heart that is always three
steps in front of my head, urging it to follow.
Because I close my eyes in the shower and hear
a waterfall, an ocean, a last gasp for air.
Because I have no secrets-
just pain, categorized and filed away in alphabetical order.
Because I know…

(Source: lora-mathis)

4527 notes Reblog

1 year ago


You are not hollow.

There is a vast landscape
opened up in your heart,
with continents so wide
that it might feel 
(at times)
utterly empty,

but is, in truth,
howling with life and a love
that will send echoes and tremors
over your geography, your geology,
shaking the stalled tectonics
of your stationary heart,
splitting the coldness of the ground, 
and waking you from numb sleep.

Lonely soul, yes, you are,
but remember this—
hollow creatures
don’t feel the earth shake.

426 notes Reblog

1 year ago


There are some things that
are set in stone
Like mothers loving all their children equally
And brothers protecting their sisters
Till the end of the world
And sisters being there to make
Every black a little grey
But people collect colourful stones
And carve these things on them
Only to get so disillusioned about life
That they leave them on a bench,
Somewhere in the middle of the city,
And never look back.

(Source: planewords)

1033 notes Reblog

1 year ago

writing by ella: Blood Stain


I can’t have kids, they told me.
No toddlers running round
with flecks of my DNA. Ouch.

Blame it on my past, they
said, the rapists fault. I knew
it. Twat. So later that day

I bought a knife from the shop.
Silver, black handle. Went
out that night. Found a guy

on the street, pretended to
be drunk. Of course he made

94 notes Reblog

1 year ago

There Was an Armadillo in the Road.


Sticks break under the weight
of our bad decisions
as we make our way deeper into the trees,

barefoot, bottles in hand:

a sound.

I’ve seen you love and run;
tonight, just sit and sip
and I’ll stay silent,
tipping my head back,
baptizing the two of us.

We are not in the business
of moderation or straight vision.

- 03.23.13

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