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 imyourcaptive)

(Source: poppyflowerpoetry, via fkmesenpai)


8 hours ago // 97,111 notes
attaches:

000033 by qwj on Flickr.

You say that you’re troubled and you always have been 
uncomfortable in your own skin.
So you contemplate the riverbed,
turn off the dark thoughts in your head.


11 hours ago // 4 notes

高井香子 | Koko Takai
my-name-is-rainn:

———————————————-
twirhled:

the sky had feelings on the way home. 7.18.14 

postllimit:

*bob the builder voice* can we fix it? YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAS WE CAN BITCH YAAAAAAS

(via lanisilvaa)


1 day ago // 148,333 notes
slanting:

春天来了(by Vic. 夏)