message
poetry
prose
tulips
history
theme


marisol. 14. ca. aries.

burn my hands
and i'll show you how
to build a wildfire
from scratch.

We Are Moths

You picked up a rock
and smashed it into a million grains of dirt,
turning the dust on the windowpane
into something greater
than us.

My fingers are bleeding out
the words you never
said.

Picture this:
you and me, eating leftover fries at a diner.
The building has a rooftop
and no one is there
to warn us.

Turn the lights off.

Let’s see who burns brighter
in the dark. 


4:12 pm     3 notes
October 19 2014

I’m addicted to the way
your light turns me into a shadow.

I’m watching your beauty from the dirt
and I’ve never seen someone
exist so quietly.

You trip down the bleachers
and laugh. My heart turns to stone
but I can feel it
setting fires in my skin.

My bones clutter the doorway,
a sad skeleton with a confused grin
too tired to pull the pieces
back together.

Your smile kills.

It’s a fire that won’t
die out.


7:29 pm     78 notes
October 12 2014

you’re so fucking interesting. i’m sorry i can’t stop staring at you in class. i think you’re attractive, but it’s okay if we don’t kiss or touch each other, ever. i’m just here to write about your hands and make you immortal.


9:30 am     10 notes
October 11 2014


4:01 pm      170,897 notes
October 8 2014

owldude:

*sees moon*
*remembers outer space*
nice

(via pniepple)


10:02 am     110,992 notes
October 4 2014


9:25 pm      67,651 notes
September 26 2014


10:04 pm      577,597 notes
September 21 2014