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Don’t ask me about her lips. How they ruby and burn. Stretch full over white teeth, taut like a drum. I want her to make music of me.

Don’t ask me about her hands. The way they are scarred with stories. How they slide down her legs as I stare. Mouth cotton; eyes hungry.

Don’t ask me about my hunger. The way my stomach drops tight when she looks at me. The way my palms itch for her bones. Don’t ask me about my fear. The way she comes to me.

How I open my mouth to say “Yes” and it comes out “I’m sorry.”

People inspire you, or they drain you - pick them wisely.
Hans F. Hansen (via somesmallghosts)
Act my age?
What the fuck is that, “act my age”?
What do I care how old I am?
The Ocean is old as fuck.
It will still drown your ass with vigor.
the greatest thing i have ever read (via thestrollingdead)
Believe in a love that is being stored up for you like an inheritance; and have faith that in this love there is a strength and a blessing so large that you can travel as far as you wish without having to step outside it.
rainer maria rilke. (via demolition)