touching his hand
was like holding fire in my palm,
balancing electricity
on my fingertips,
tickling a star.

watching him
watch me
made me feel like
I could run a marathon,
skate to the moon,
and outrun old age
all in the same day.

my arm vibrates
where his eyes have been,
like being tattooed
for a second time

and staying overtime
gave me plenty of time
to make ridiculous comparisons,
to wonder what he was like
every waking moment of every day,

to think:
he is so easy to be around,
so light, but so grounded.

to think:
there must be something
difficult about him,
something underneath his flesh
that is breaking him
into a puzzle
I can’t wait to solve.

- i write about boys who don’t give a shit (via an-augustus-waters-fetish)

(Source: moodring-eyes, via an-augustus-waters-fetish)

"You may not come running to me again. Not with your problems. Not with your love. Not with your need, or sadness, or anger. You may never come to me again. Ever."
- Alex Vause (via almostsomewhere01)

(via pr1nc3ssleia)


okay seriously if you’re in a relationship or even a friendship and you find yourself spending more time crying out of sadness or arguing with them, leave them. i don’t care if they’re a modern day aphrodite/adonis or a gift bestowed upon you by the gods. toxic people are dangerous and i highly advise cutting them out of your life and finding someone who makes you laugh until you snort your drink out your nose instead.

(via life-is-bittersweet-chaos)