foolish humans.

Monica. Aus.
Each man kills
the things he loves.

mood words:
i don't understand
what have i become to you


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" Let’s kiss for a few hours. You and I. I don’t mind where or when or even if you’ll call me after because I know you will. Hands on your face, mouths like honey, let’s kiss until the spaces between us are swollen with it. I want to know what the dip of your breath is like when you’re happy. And how your face feels when I’m holding it. More, when you’re excited. Mostly, your palms. Or the tangle of my hair in your fingers. I want to kiss you for days, or what feels like days but is only hours. Or, you know, days that are days. We can pause for food and water but not breaths. We can pause to say “hey, I like the way you feel when you’re soft beneath me” or “listen, it’s still not enough with you, I’m worried it never might be” and start all over again. "

Azra.T ”The Spaces Between” (via 5000letters)
"

My friend once told me
she liked this guy because of his hands
And I found it absurd that anyone
would develop feelings over one feature,
and not care about the rest

It wasn’t until you used your hands
to cup the back of my neck the first time we kissed
and I could feel your firm grasp pull me closer,
and my insides exploded
and my head buzzed with bliss.

And the first night you slept over,
you fell asleep with your hand
laid over my stomach
and your fingers felt like a fire
that I didn’t mind burning my skin.

The first time we got drunk,
was the first time you played with my hair,
and my god I was hooked,
I’d drink forever if it meant you’d never stop.

And in public you’d hold my hand,
and rub your thumb in little circles
that left me wanting you more,
no matter what you would never let me go,
I was glued to you,
and I honestly didn’t mind

When we talked about breaking up,
you saw my lips quiver with fear,
and you brushed over my lips with your fingers
before pulling me into your lap
and you kissed me like never before.
With your hands on my hips
pulling me so close to you,
leaving no space in between us.
It was then I realized I never wanted you to go

Its now that,
I finally understand why hands
were the only feature that mattered

"

Hands: Carol Shlyakhova(strong-but-breakable)
" A truth should exist,
it should not be used
like this. If I love you
is that a fact or a weapon?
"

Margaret Atwood (via feellng)
" I’m full of poetry now. Rot and poetry. Rotten poetry. "

— Ernest Hemingway, The Snows of Kilimanjaro (via gavinocathail)

Does anyone else lie in bed at 2:30am filled with the crippling fear that they’re never going to accomplish anything in life and fail miserably or is that just me