Sex. Silence. Shadows.

i wanna fray your nerve endings and make your skin crawl, picking over your soul and gnawing the skin of your neck, our lust a blanket we get lost in, we drown in one another nightly, sore for our forms, as raw as a fresh kill, ravenous as we feast again.

“He looked at me like I was crazy. Most of my lovers do, and that’s partly why they love me, and partly why they leave.”

“I will not have you without the darkness that hides within you. I will not let you have me without the madness that makes me. If our demons cannot dance, neither can we.”

Every man fell in love with her, and she was really awfully bored.

He’s kissing me everywhere, squeezing me, running his fingers over places no one else has touched.

Van Gogh aveva una stranezza: sosteneva che mangiare la vernice gialla potesse renderlo felice.

♡ those bedroom eyes