I really love my blog. Most posts are reblogs from ppl I follow or things I see online. Others, are my original words and art. Seriously, if I could marry my blog, I would.
xibieart@gmail.com
If you come. In. Taking attemptive steps. You fly around like an angel.
Shattered, scattered is the fort I have built. They were my egg shells.
As fragile, tangible desire to hold your face again. Against. Mine.
I can smell you in my dreams, my walls cave in.
I can hear the sound of your notes, my sorrow takes over and there, there, there…
It is flooded. Shells become boats and swim away. Washed by the empty space.
Gone. Gone is what I know.
It was always you that stood still. Dormant. I close my eyes and repeat, build again, against my soul.
Missing you is an understatement, missing you is like a job. I. Resign.
The empty space is bigger than I can describe.
Mmmm… I think I am going to go with this. :o(
Where the fuck is this button inside of me? WHERE?
If there is a person out there that you supposably love them as much as they love you, and YOU are the one that makes them happy, and the only one that KNOWS how to make them happy, why in the world would you choose NOT TO?
(Source: leilockheart)
(Source: leilockheart)
(Source: bossman-andy)