deathsus

primadonna girl……………………………………………………………………………………….

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………yeah

there are times when i ride the bus home and the whole vehicle is calm and quiet—most people sleeping, or busy, unbothered. these are the times i sometimes sing softly, little secrets i whisper into the space and atmosphere i occupy; hidden melodies tucked into tiny pockets of time and existence.

or inevitably weep. delicate sorrows spilled in temporary rests. like Jacob, this is my altar—this window seat too shall be my witness. in an hour or so, i depart. in an hour or so, i leave.

Since the ocean has meat, salt, and veg in it, it is technically a big thing of soup. (source)

but it’s COLD >:(

The Ocean Is Gazpacho

Our hearts are adjoined. Our fingers intertwine with one another's.

I want to listen to your heartbeat. Just rest my head on your chest and listen.

can y'all believe they named a whole art museum after lorde’s song

I never used to believe in all those cheesy clichés, but now I understand why they’re so common: it’s because they’re true, and you make me feel all of them. 

I just want you. Your messy morning hair. Your humming when you’re making breakfast. Your cuddling during thunderstorms. Your hand holding mine as we gaze at the stars. Your good days. Your bad. Your everything. I want you.