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firefly
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breatheI met her when I was seventeen. I remember, it was third period on Thursday, Maths. I couldn't not notice her. She walked in slowly, dark hair and gray-green eyes. They reminded me of the sea. I fucking hate the sea. She sat next to me at the back of the class and started drawing. I could smell her hair. I'm not sure if it was her perfume or her shampoo, but it was immediately 'her' smell. It was soft and earthy, the kind of smell that fills your nostrils with the image of a park after a thunder storm. I couldn't concentrate, so I tried to talk to her. "What's the formula for a circle?" Her scribbling stopped, she turned her head towards me,breathe
by ~indie-isnt-indie
saxaphonistsHer bare toes sinking into the earth, she chased butterflies. Running behind them, she asked questions like "Mr. Butterfly, do you ever get lonely?" In her mind, if you only had one day to live you wouldn't worry about what you had or hadn't done yet. She liked to tell people that butterflies are like what we wished we were; simple and honest. It was in these spring afternoons when the air smelt like wet and her feet pounded the earth into mud that she began to feel something new. She was eight-hundred-and-eighty-four weeks old, and she fancied the idea that she was in love. Not just with butterflies and not with a softly-spoken sasaxaphonists
by ~indie-isnt-indie
fancyHe was watching her from inside the cab of his 'ninety-three ute with the faded paint and seats that smell like gasoline. One evening it was raining and she recognized him like the older-brother of a long lost friend. Affection and caution painted her pale brow. She walked up to his window with swaying hips and a smile that could only be called predatory. "Hey good-looking..." her invitation hanging in the air and her callused hands trailing across the dusty door frame. "Hey sweet-cheeks, wanna come for a ride?" he smiled at her and pointed to the passenger seat, an unopened bottle of home-brand liquor laying on the floor. The passfancy
by ~indie-isnt-indie
honesty is not a streetshe was pulling at apple peels like corroded arteries and she was telling you about the meaning of toy soldiers but you are glazed over eyes and hard-to-pronounce syllables.honesty is not a street
she climbs trees because she prefers the wind when she's ten meters off the ground. she tells you that a picture is worth a thousand words but just give her a two words in a sentence and she'll show you a thousand ideas.
and that is what we really are, you know. we are ideas and facial expressions and burnt sea shells lying on handmade coffee tables.
they gave you woolen jum
by ~indie-isnt-indie
Random Favourites
Do me'Whore' is one way of saying, 'I'm jealous of your sexual freedom. Please, take me too.'Do me
by ~Pecavvi
it's not a metaphor.my love for youit's not a metaphor.
is not how the stars
kiss the moon behind veils of clouds it is not the way your voice sounds like
a million angels singing only to me .
no. fuck that.
it's your tits. it's the way you moan my name when you orgasm. it's the way your hair is bushy first thing in the morning and the way you flinch when i touch you. it's how i get jealous. how i make you feel like a whore. how you break down crying. it's how you lie to me. about everything . about everything but the fact that you love me.
it's how we cried
by ~iheartabortions
artificial facality.my name is lissa spelled with two s's and a heart above the i and my eyes are milky blue oceans with sharp edges and i'm drowning the one sprinkle of brown i inherited from my mum in my ocean.artificial facality.
[i think the fact that something inside of me is sinking is beautiful. is that a bad thing?] my skin is ivory colored and fragile and my nose is freckled with the sun's foot marks
and i have broken blood vessels in all the places you kissed me and you can hide yourself in the purple shadows under my eyes
and i have 103 moles. i counted.
my fingers aren't double jointed and i don't have a hitchhike thum
by ~SoUpRRmaN
still a little bit of your face i haven't kissed 
Sentimental
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THAT IS SO FUCKING AWESOME.
IN SO MANY FUCKING WAYS. HOLY FUCKING SHIT. YOU ARE SO MANY KINDS OF WIN.
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its my ALias
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