I wish my blood was made of words, traveling through my vein like phrases. My body a whole dictionary, my organs novels and encyclopedias. I would breathe in letters, and exhale metaphors, bite into punctuation, commas between my teeth, soliloquies down my larynx, epistolary journals against my lungs, and poetry, like oxygen, around my heart.
Steven here’s my post about my other love. I can’t tell you his name but just know its real and our love is meaningless compared to my new love. Sorry to break your heart. But pizza will always have my heart.
sometimes i get in a mood where i want to talk to everyone then approximately 0.20 seconds later i regret everything
“Eyes that look are common; eyes that see are rare.”
J. Oswald Sanders (via jmuehl82)
Have you ever loved someone so much that their scent is comforting?
This sounds really creepy but I totally get it