you gave me a key and called it home

20 years today. That quick.

Me:

My dog moved while I was taking a panorama and now they’re Cerberus

honey: lipstick, a sweet voice, confident laughter, handwritten notes, tries their best, loves fashion and dogs, bright eyes like the sun, new cities, good grades

woodsmoke: tired souls, ticket stubs and street maps from places they’ve visited, bodies full of untold stories, missing the train, coffee, gentle words 

wisteria: dreamy evenings, freshly-baked cinnamon rolls, sipping tea, writing in a diary, thick, worn-out jumpers, handfuls of flowers, falling in love, book piles

saltwater: dark, tousled hair, ripped jeans, paintbrushes, lofty grins, swallowing hard, a little broken, trying desperately to be a good person

ink: soft aching hands buried in messy hair, tragic smiles, scribbling on dusty parchment, ancient ruins, attic windows, stars, cups of tea gone cold