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Kiss her. Slowly, take your time, there’s no place you’d rather be. Kiss her but not like you’re waiting for something else, like your hands beneath her shirt or her skirt or tangled up in her bra straps. Nothing like that. Kiss her like you’ve forgotten any other mouth that your mouth has ever touched. Kiss her with a curious childish delight. Laugh into her mouth, inhale her sighs. Kiss her until she moans. Kiss her with her face in your hands. Or your hands in her hair. Or pulling her closer at the waist. Kiss her like you want to take her dancing. Like you want to spin her into an open arena and watch her look at you like you’re the brightest thing she’s ever seen. Kiss her like she’s the brightest thing you’ve ever seen. Take your time. Kiss her like the first and only piece of chocolate you’re ever going to taste. Kiss her until she forgets how to count. Kiss her stupid. Kiss her silent. Come away, ask her what 2+2 is and listen to her say your name in answer.
Azra.T “this is how you keep her” (via 5000letters)

I was six when Robert from down the block
pushed me onto a pile of rocks
my mama brushed the dirt off my cheeks,
washed off my bleeding knees
and told me “don’t cry, don’t show
weakness”

and in fifth grade my friend’s cousin passed away and
two days later i overheard some boys
calling her a crybaby

i think maybe i complain a lot about small things
like sore joints or headaches or chapped lips or
how long it is until the next episode of game of thrones
so everyone thinks the only problems in my life
are itty bitty butterflies but

I don’t talk about the bad stuff, you know? I don’t mention
the stuff that’s eating me up, the stuff that makes this skin
feel less like home and more like a prison,
the stuff that’s making my particles disconnect
from one another so i become
atomic dust, i just

i help a lot of people with their burdens, as often as i can
and i know they wouldn’t really mind it if i told them maybe
just a little about how bad it’s getting
but even my closest friends
i never want to bother because i hear their stories
about what they’re carrying and
i don’t want to add to it when they’re sad enough as it is
and when they’re happy, I know exactly
how rare it is for them,
so I don’t want to spoil it

the only thing is
a few days ago, I offered advice to someone who needed a
pick-me-up and she looked me in the eyes and asked
“how is it exactly that you know this stuff”

and I could have unzippered my bones and come
crashing out all over the floor
but instead I shrugged and smiled and said
“That’s what I do. That’s what I’m here for.”

"So, I think I’m depressed. Or burdened. Or something. I just can’t get my shit straight. I am always looking for somebody to fix. Or save. Or shape into a butterfly." /// r.i.d (via inkskinned)

bambigoodwin:

lettersto-savemyself:

"Today in class the teacher asked the question, ‘Is it better to have loved and lost, or to never have loved at all?’ I said, ‘to have loved and lost’ and you said, ‘to have never loved at all.’ I looked at you and you looked at me, and thats when I knew you never loved me at all.

#25 in my “School Series” this was written at least a year ago while I was going through bad things in school (248/365)

this just tore my heart out

(Source: lettersto-savemyself)

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