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Don’t touch me if you don’t mean it.

The War Boys (2009)
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What a terrible mistake to let go of something wonderful for something real.

Miranda July, No One Belongs Here More Than You (via 5000letters)
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I get reckless when I want to
be touched. I call and hang up.
I walk into the middle of the street.
I lie. I dangle my phone out of the
second story window, pretend
I’m saving your life.

The things that I want are shameful.
The things that I want are
meant for spectacular bodies
sprawled out in big beds,
or slammed up against a wall.
All I’ve got is a couch and a
crooked mouth that wants to
bruise your neck, so I’ll pretend
it’s enough to get you to
come home with me.

So what if I’m not spectacular?
I can still have the dream
of you with your hands all over me,
unashamed and hungry, if I want it.

Look, just come over.
Just go with me here,
for a second.
I know you don’t love me.
I know this, but pretend.
Pretend for a while.
I don’t care if I’m special,
as long as you fuck me like I am.

Caitlyn Siehl, Spectacular Bodies (via alonesomes)
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There, I’ve said it:
someone I was could have loved you.

Marty McConnell, from Miniature Bridges, Your Mouth (via violentwavesofemotion)
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I’ve stopped being sorry for all my soft. I won’t apologize because I miss you, or because I said it, or because I text you first, or again. I think everyone spends too much time trying to close themselves off. I don’t want to be cool or indifferent, I want to be honest.

Azra.T “Don’t Wait Three Days to Text First.”  (via charmrose)
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Three years later, a new girl sits cross-legged on your bed.
She tastes like a different flavor of bubblegum than you are used to.
She opens up a book that you had to read in high school, and a folded picture of us falls out of chapter three.
Now there are two unfinished stories resting in her lap.
Inevitably, she asks, and you tell her.

You say: I dated her a while back.
You don’t say: Sometimes, when I’m holding you, I imagine the smell of her vanilla perfume.

You say: She was younger than me.
You don’t say: The sixteen summers in her bones warmed the eighteen winters my skin had weathered.

You say: It’s nothing now.
You don’t say: But it was everything then.

Some things are better left unsaid.  (via lookingforsomeonewhocares)
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  • 3 weeks ago
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daughterofdiaspora:

my mom taught me the therapeutic power of cleaning. open all the windows. throw out the old. wipe down the entire house. burn some incense. roast some coffee. then rest. that way the tears from last night don’t feel as heavy. 

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zzzeal:

Shoutout to all the artists on Tumblr who work on something for weeks and only get 4 notes

Shoutout to all the artists on Youtube who do amazing speedpaints and, if they’re lucky, will get 500 views

Shoutout to all underappreciated artists who do amazing work and receive no recognition

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ohawkguy:

the notebook problem: you see a notebook. you want to buy the notebook. but you know you have like TEN OTHER NOTEBOOKS. most which are STILL EMPTY. you don’t need to notebook. you’re probably not gonna use the notebook anyway. what’s the point? DONT BUY THE NOTEBOOK. you buy the notebook.

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  • 4 weeks ago
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Drag Queens have the best description for their looks..

monieinthamiddle:

..they’re like “I’m giving you Beyoncé in 1984, on the beach, eating ice cream, during a thunderstorm.” And it’s so convincing, I’ll be like “I see that!”

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