CowPatty3334

On Sundays the sadness spills
from my eyes like gasoline
and I drink dark beer and
paint my nails burgundy.
I almost call you to tell you
that you no longer taste like
strawberry candy on my tongue,
and that each day you’re beginning
to taste more and more
like oil and vinegar.
But I am not a stupid girl,
and even though my brain
is tinted yellow in your memory;
I am beginning to learn that
there are other things besides
your hands on my waist,
that make me feel safe.
I think it’s time I stop
writing poetry about you.
I always try to make rivers
but it always comes out
in a flood anyhow.
My mother always told me,
I wasn’t the sort of girl,
made out to belong
to someone.
No. No. No.
I belong to myself.
I am not a raincloud,
I am the storm.

– Abbie Nielsen, Gasoline Spills of Sadness (via passionandcoffeestains)

(Source: passionandcoffeestains)

Via I love you . . .



itsdelukey:

*egg noise*

(Source: heartbrakegirl)


Little darling, we’re all lonely, we don’t all show our scars. It’s my heart, and my burden, and I would never bring you down like that.

Flicker and Fail , Laura Marling (via follaton-woods) Via a brave bird.

shroomcal:

if u aren’t a calum girl u probably are

Via



vegemiteash:

mtvhood:

dimpleluke:


X

OUT JULY 22 OUT JULY 22??? WHICH YEAR

finally an accurate article about 5sos finally


Via "I'm Half a Heart Without Food"

Why do you do this to me?
Those eyes, oh, will they set you free?
I’d have you know that I’m counting sheep at night
to sleep as tight as I used to.

The moon looks so glorious tonight,
from where you are, I hope it’s just as bright.
It’s such a shame wishing we could keep this grace
when we don’t deserve it.
We don’t deserve it.

But one man’s ruin is another one’s gold;
the same sun will rise, oh, even with these eyes closed.
One man’s burden is another one’s gold;
I hope you find what you’re looking for,
I hope it comes knocking on your door.

Home seems so far away,
Strange, because you’ve never left at all.
Now you roam like a lost boy in the woods,
and may you run free, may you run for me.

I write these songs you will never hear,
in the shadow of the highrise I live beneath.

– I’m Happy For You, No, Really / NL / Songs (via nclagrimas) Via we all ruin, we all reach

tokomon:

my favorite thing about school was sitting with your friend and flipping through a random textbook pointing at ugly pictures and saying “that’s you.”

Via hopelessly dreaming..


12347
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