— addiction (via pillsand-coffee)
— Rushmore (1998) Dir. Wes Anderson (via skippingthewitches)
I’m in the mood to write poems for people. Drop by my ask and leave me a story or prompt!
I know how to play with instruments of emotion
by feel, soaking my hands into the core of men
and pulling at their heartstrings, stringing them
along until they become entangled in betrayal.
Maybe it’s because I’m heartless.
After all, I didn’t even have the heart
to tell my ex that I never really loved
him as much as his deep infatuation
for me still to this day leads him to
believe: the idea that one day he will
Maybe it’s because I’m just too selfish.
Too selfish to cut off my feet and place
them in another person’s shoes to see
what it’s really like to go the extra mile
for someone, your best friend, the one
whom you love but whom only thinks
of you as nothing more than a friend.
That distribution of appreciation will
always be unequal,
can never be repaid.
Or maybe I crushed their flimsy little instruments
just so that they wouldn’t get a chance to break
— Sade Harrison (via sexual-feelings)