April 2012
cubic1es:
if mondays were shoes they’d be crocs
burningpaperheart:
Now im pacing back and forth, wishing you were at my door
hyb: poorlywrittenhistory: I wasn’t writing you... →
poorlywrittenhistory: I wasn’t writing you love poems in my head this time as I curled my body against yours, thinking instead of how sad I get sometimes when we end up collapsed and quiet. I try to hold my breath and count the way someone taught me when I was young, but instead it comes out…
“I have love in me the likes of which you can scarcely imagine and rage the likes...”
– Mary Shelley, Frankenstein (via aclockworkorange)
“A student blows up at a teacher, drops the F-bomb. The usual approach at Lincoln...”
– Lincoln High School in Walla Walla, WA, tries new approach to school discipline — suspensions drop 85% (via mchotdog)
what a radical idea yo
(via matthewdgold)
I counted each mile On the drive up Distance and minutes Ticking away in my mind Each moment brought Me closer and closer yet But the journey wasn’t Over when I was parked Neither did it end As I shifted nervously On doorstep Only two warm arms Finished me.
the cinnamon peeler's wife: (151) →
clavicola:
Yes, because I would rather not imagine a world where where I’d wake up in the morning to you in the kitchen; the smell of coffee grounds on your fingertips. You, standing by the kitchen sink, looking out at the woman across the street selling pomegranates in a white dress, and smiling, as she…
