#queerlitedit

DELILAH GREEN DOESN'T CARE by Ashley Herring Blake ★★★

she can’t believe jane had the nerve, the audacity, to become the one thing august can’t resist: a mystery.

nobody tells you how those nights that stand out in your memory—levee sunset nights, hurricane nights, first kiss nights, homesick sleepover nights, nights when you stood at your bedroom window and looked at the lilies one porch over and thought they would stand out, singular and crystallized, in your memory forever—they aren’t really anything. they’re everything, and they’re nothing. they make you who you are, and they happen at the same time a twenty-three-year-old a million miles away is warming up some leftovers, turning in early, switching off the lamp. they’re so easy to lose. you don’t learn until you’re older how to zoom out of that extreme proximity and make it fit into the bigger picture of your life.

for @walkerrenee <3

-IF WE WERE VILLAINS, M. L. RIO

cemetery boys — aiden thomas

Maybe people who live in the Basin don’t realize how wrong it feels unless they leave. 

in the darkness, two shadows, reaching through the hopeless, heavy dusk. their hands meet, and light spills in a flood like a hundred golden urns pouring out of the sun.