lettie

deer farm down in arkansas

I shot an angel with my father's rifle

me grilling

@mothercain

sometimes i wonder how many grieving faces it has seen- and if it also longs to go back to before it was rotting.

poloroid’s of places my heart calls home, even though not much is left of it. my childhood best friend lived across the street, in front of the cemetery. she died before she could finish high school, and i wish i could’ve told her i loved her before we grew apart. it will never be the same, no matter how desperate i am for it.