It’s midnight now and somewhere in a November
that still exists tonight, we’re kissing each other’s knuckles
for the first time.
I’ve swallowed hearts like apricots
and I’ve watched as the juice of being in love
dripped down my chin and spread like watercolors
across my skin.
— I’ve seen what shades I feel in
when I feel in shades of
I’ve lived through seven seas of heartbreak
but I wouldn’t take any of it back
because on each shoreline I found another reason
to let someone lead me into the waves
with my eyes closed.
Do you remember how raw the night seemed
when we cracked the moon over our teeth and let its
yolk run down our throat?
Salmonella or not,
I loved you then.
It’s April now,
and there are showers, like they promised.
Driving around in the rain today,
someone told me that May would be
But fuck it. I don’t want May flowers.
I only want
— “Thinking About The Way You Hold Your Hands Over Flowerbeds,” Shinji Moon (via commovente)
12:16 am 2,416 notes
The sound of my name in your mouth,
11:30 pm 3 notes
2:27 pm 9,782 notes
“It’s hard to really grasp that existential fact that the only commodity that is not negotiable is time.”
11:32 pm 45,515 notes
Photos that speak: Fuck your fountain. Fuck your tree. Fuck voter suppression. Fuck your labels. Fuck your stereotypes. Fuck your hatred. Fuck your restaurants. Fuck that dude. Fuck police brutality. Fuck white supremacy.
— Alan Cohen (via bluishtigers)
4:28 pm 1,622 notes
— Vincent van Gogh’s last words (1853-1890)
10:32 pm 68,121 notes