aquagrunt:

I can see us holdin hands walkin on the beach our toes in the sand i can see us on the countryside sittin in the grass layin side by side

ashakenpiety:

There are things sweeter and softer 
than the curve of my lips
but that doesn’t seem to matter 
when you outline them with your thumb.

This is new, so I force polite hesitation
but not the butterflies.
They have made themselves at home
and my bones tempt me with flight.
Curious fluttering and wild colors,
calcifying daydreams into conversations,
giving my favorite self a chance to be.

when reading, we don’t fall in love with the characters’ appearance. we fall in love with their words, their thoughts, and their hearts. we fall in love with their souls. 

(Source: amongstwoodedpaths, via ellokelso)

mystrangesilhouettes:

If you held the moon 
on your palm, and the sun
on your lips, how would you
explain the smoke coming out 
of your nose and blood on your fingertips?

mystrangesilhouettes:

Regret fits unevenly inside my palm.
It fits awkwardly, almost sliding off my fingers.
I hate how I can never measure my capture around it.
I can never take it whole and accept that my fingers are just too tiny.
I can never find it in my heart to accept regret, and it will never stray away from my palms.
I am writing you, as if you’d come alive everyday.

hepatitisbey:

I don’t want to learn in a classroom anymore. I want to travel and talk to people and learn that way. I want to learn as I go, gathering knowledge and not being rigorously tested on it. I don’t want to lose passion in the things I like because of the worry of exams. I want to fuelled by snippets of knowledge I gain from people and be inquisitive. School has stolen my passion for the things I’m interested in and I hate it for that.

(via ellokelso)