“You lost her. And now she lights up the night-time sky for her new lover cause he recognized her as the moon. And you envy him. She could’ve been your moon, but you were too busy chasing the dimly lit stars.”

“In the next few years I hope to see you again. Maybe then We can talk of the things We were once too afraid to admit.”

one of the best pieces of writing advice i’ve ever gotten:

I wish i could mend all the peoples’ wounds that i opened when I wasn’t myself.

oh u read the book i recommended u

And sometimes I think people don't really understand the intimacy associated with the hands of someone; with the art of subtly just sliding your fingers into them, and them, slowly tightening their grip around yours, their thumb tracing over your veins, feeling your blood flow underneath their touch, your heart pulsating with a sense of deep rythm. Their hands reaching out to you, cupping your face, overwhelming you with all of their love and affection, their warmth seeping into your skin as you feel a sense of softness envelop you ; them bare hands slowly sliding down your neck, onto your bare shoulders, sending shivers down your soul as you feel their vibrations echoing within you, no longer distinguishable boundaries between either of your selves. Its in the way hands just, deny to betray the feelings the person beholds , is what makes them special to me.

me: * is giving the cold shoulder to friend*