Nº. 1 of  459

The Izabella Dynamic

I bring you with reverent hands / The books of my numberless dreams / White woman that passion has worn / As the tide wears the dove-grey sands / And with heart more old than the horn / That is brimmed from the pale fire of time / White woman with numberless dreams / I bring you my passionate rhyme. - W. B. Yeats

(Source: c0caino, via convertical)

April 22nd

This city always
feels colder whenever I
start missing you more.

-A.G.

(Source: theizabelladynamic)

(Source: c1tylight5, via rodlst)

I want your Monday morning
sleep soaked eyes
dream drenched voice,
lazy bones
‘five more minutes please babe.’

I want your Tuesday afternoon
coffee break,
glasses off, laughter on
‘just hold me for a while
it’s been a hard day.’

I want your Wednesday evening
fingers through hair
teeth nibbling nails
neck craning, eye glazing
‘this paperwork never ends’

I want your Thursday night
drinks for two
bones unbind
muscles let loose
flats, slacks,
‘just me and you’

I want your finally Friday
stretch soul smile,
sun sipping light
from the glaciers in your eyes
fingers unfurl, hand extends
‘c’mon babe, lets go wild’

I want your weekend.
your movie marathon Saturday
reading by the fireplace
kissing in the blankets
want your Sunday morning
orange juice and pancakes
white sheets, tender skin
hair like the Fourth of July
‘let’s not get out of bed today.’

I want your ordinary
and your stress, rest, release
I want your bad day and that terrible night
I want you drunk in my arms
forgetting the place but never my name
I want your lazy and your lonely
and your fist full of fight
I want you everyday
in every way
for the rest of my life.

—On Both Knees | alfaazkibarsaaat (via alfaazkibarsaaat)

(via unnecessarydecisions)

unnecessarydecisions:

lol speaking of which

unnecessarydecisions:

lol speaking of which

(Source: jackbleasdale)

darksilenceinsuburbia:

Rachel Sussman

The Oldest Living Things in the World

Via

(via unnecessarydecisions)

You know, they say that there is a part of the human chest that if you strike it hard enough, it makes the person’s heart explode. This sounds like such a lie that even I have to believe it’s the truth. If I were science, I’d never tell anyone where this place is. If I were science, I’d have named this place after you.

—Cristin O’Keefe Aptowicz, Not As Smart as I Think I am (via sickur)

(Source: ghoulful, via unnecessarydecisions)

unnecessarydecisions:

michaelfaudet:

More poetry and prose by Lang Leav here

always literally perfection.

unnecessarydecisions:

michaelfaudet:

More poetry and prose by Lang Leav here

always literally perfection.

(Source: langleav)

Nº. 1 of  459