(via ellesbian)


Thunderstorms

Your kiss felt soft and pure

And your breath warm

Like rain against my skin

And I gave you my cheek

That burned with shame

Like the sticky heat in the air before the storm

You promised you would never forget me

Like the scent of the the sky after lightning strikes

And I cried 

Until my body shook like thunder

Because I knew

This was the first poem in months

That wasn’t about you


mira-mirabiliaimages:

"Seven hours"

mira-mirabiliaimages:

"Seven hours"

(via fathomage)


I am not a flower

I am not a flower.

Opening for merely the warm touch of the sun

Relying on my roots

To hold me grounded to this earth

Relying on the precious rain to keep me alive

Swaying at every whisper of the wind

Changing my direction to follow the beams of light

For fear that I may wilt and that my beauty may never be seen

I am the earth:

I am rage like a landslide

Fury like an earthquake

Meticulous like the tectonic plates that move beneath your feet

Composed entirely of the layers of my past

A molten vengeant core burning

Buried beneath what is mine

And yours

My body is like the mountains 

Worn from standing strong against years of battling the weather

And being unable to move

And yet you walk across me

Flattening my soul when you tread 

Like I am nothing but dirt

Left to decay

So flowers can grow. 


Extreme stress, depression or anxiety can lead to depersonalisation, a mental condition where you feel out of touch with yourself.

(via acutelesbian)


(via acutelesbian)


The meaning of life is that it stops.

ivoryunknown:

-

ivoryunknown:

-

(via relaxs)



anais poulit by billy kidd in 2009

anais poulit by billy kidd in 2009


Watercolors

I envy your life is so vivid 

Colorful and full of light

I want to paint your words

Like watercolors

On the backsplash of closed eyes

A beautiful image

You are art that I want to frame

In my memory 

When I dream tonight

Instead of worrying 

That I won’t wake up at all


(via debt)


Clocks

I had never been aware
Of the little sounds
Like the ticking of a clock
Or the way you smile
At the little click of the lock on the door
Because I took for granted
How precious time is
And how little of it
We truly have