showyoursupport:

Of Monsters and Men - Mountain Sound

Let’s say you were ready / for bed in your brown-rimmed glasses with your black yoga pants & your loose green sweatshirt. For you I would shovel / the driveway in the dark, the unsolvable ice under the curdled snow, & I would scrape / your windshield & warm your car. I am trying so hard to explain myself. I am trying so hard to avoid words / like love as if they were long clouds ruining safe flights over America’s midriff. I am trying / not to put you in the usual gardens. The important thing is you / were always quiet about matters like this, always willing to let certain phenomenon be / observed only. I’m fond of the scar on your ass where they took that mole. There are times I put your shirts away just to feel / how light you are.

Bill Neumire"I Don’t Believe in Ghosts"  (via letters-to-nobody)

(Source: linebreak.org)

ianoshea:

Books are so ideal for lazy people I mean we can do all these amazing things and go to amazing places and experience all these things all while sitting on our ass.

astoundly:

sometimes i think i’m sassy and then i realize i’m just too sarcastic and borderline mean

(Source: astoundly)

How can emptiness be so heavy?

Six Word Story (via drupahti)

(Source: WOLVERXNE)

the number of times i think “i don’t care” while people are talking to me is really getting out of hand

(Source: mycroft)

She always loved the sea, but that never explained
why I saw shipwrecks in her smile. She was the type
of girl that slipped out of your fingers like sand,
especially when you tried to hold on too tight, she
didn’t like being too close. She’d crash into men like
the waves crashed into rocks, she thought she would
find herself in them but she never did. I told her she
already had something. I told her that the emotions
she held inside her were gifts to be written and given,
but instead she swallowed pills that took them away.
She asked me if I believed in heaven and I said yes,
and followed it with a don’t go without me. She shook
away the smile on her face and said one day she’d meet
me between the sea and the sun, I didn’t understand
what the hell she meant so I just said okay. It wasn’t
until the next day I called her in the morning and got no
answer, no answer, no answer.
The last time I caught a glimpse of her was when I set
her ashes free, between the sun and the sea. Where
she wanted to be.

i.c. // to the ones who lost
their best friend  (via delicatepoetry)