strange desire (minus wild heart reprise) + snapchats
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, TERESA! ♥ queen of my heart and tlat enthusiast, i hope you have the most wonderful day. here’s to many more years of sharing our love of alina kovalenko, darling!!!
Fans meeting Harry backstage in Arlington | 24/08/14
The darkness of your heart, can’t last forever.
I try to not let it have an affect on me and to preserve my real life. People think they know everything about me. But fuck, who knows the truth? No one.
are you awake? a playlist for 3 in the morning when the sky looks almost as beautiful as the person next to you [+]
Four walls are not enough, I’ll take a dip into the unknown, unknown.
Chicago, IL. August 29, 2014
Sometimes my heart acts
like it doesn’t have anything
better to do
than break over you.
You made a home in the middle of my October
and the way the autumn colors became bright.
You blew in like a warm breeze
pushing through averted eyes,
through restless hands,
through shifting knees,
and nervous nail biting
just to get to me.
You dreamed of mountains
and open skies.
We talked of human existence
under the existing stars
and ignored the weather
when the wind turned cold.
Those stars are all dead now
and I am crumbling after you climbed
my snow-capped peaks.
You said you would stay
but you never unpacked your bags.
You are climbing other mountains
under bigger skies now.
I should have known I should have known
I should have known.
I am trying to digest those words
vacant of the promise they once held
but they will not decompose.
You keep spilling them to other girls
like automated voicemail messages,
recited lines of a poem you wrote
to keep yourself from feeling lonely.
I gathered up all the pieces of forgiveness
I could find
because I didn’t know what else to do
with my hands
and you didn’t really deserve them
but I left a few for you anyways.
I guess I was the one
who gave you the right to hurt me
and boy, did you hurt me
but it was never right.
The skin in my fingers still shivers
every time I remember your weathered hands.
I still feel my muscles stretching
every time I remember the way
you said there was
no more room in your heart for me.
I guess all of me
was too much for you.
Learning to piece myself back together
was never beautiful or poetic.
It was breakdowns on bathroom floors;
it was weighted lungs;
it was dripping hands;
it was purple knees;
it was landslides and avalanches
and being buried in rubble.
I only made it poetic
in hopes that it would hurt a little less.
It doesn’t really.
It is still rushing memories
hitting me like arrows
because a part of you will always be in my chest.
It is still bitterness invading,
but barricading my doors
because I don’t want the anger anymore.
But at least I have stopped crumbling
for the most part.
At least I am digging myself out
of last October
and finding meaning in the colors
that doesn’t involve you.
I have better things to break over.
It is too bad journals can’t speak up and give advice or support.
The last time that happened the Chamber of Secrets was opened
Let’s go to the seven-day outlook. Your daily shades of the sky forecast:…
Welcome to Night Vale is great and yes, I’ve jumped on the bandwagon.
“I can’t keep pouring myself a glass of wine on stage, so drinking from the bottle just made sense, right?” — Matty Healy
i dont understand how he manage the large amount of wine every night :0
my anaconda don’t want none unless you’re a band member hun
does my messy hair and the dark circles under my eyes in combination with an oversized shirt and slutty underwear turn you on