in the mood for a make out session with hickies & shit
More you might like
fucking use me, god. i want every part of me to be sore in the morning from your bruises and hickeys and hard kisses. want you to throw me against the bed, fuck me hard and fast, pin my hands over my head so i have to take you whether i like it or not
I love that word. Forever. I love that forever doesn’t exist, but we have a word for it anyway, and use it all the time. It’s beautiful and doomed.
“Perhaps when I was designed
The universe had her stuck on it’s mind
Because I feel like my purpose on Earth
Is simply to experience her love
It’s as if I was born to feel her arms holding me
Or to taste her lips on mine
For the blue in her eyes will set me free
Once my soul memorizes her light
There is never-ending desire
Spreading through my veins like wildfire
But my heart greedily denies the cure
After spending forever with her I‘d still want more
It is a delightful and passionate cliché
She feels like home, but exists far away
Like a celestial body from another galaxy
She‘s beautiful and cosmically unaware of it
She walks among stars as if they compare to her
But the universe and I both know she‘s purer
She’s like the moon, shining from a distance
But still allowing the sea to dance to it’s rhythm
Therefore to give up on her would be a sin
As bad as to give up on myself
So I’ll keep counting the freckles on her skin
Until infinity means me and her and nothing else”
— The Sky Made Me Hers ( @oceans-full-of-galaxies )
when someone traces their fingers along my body it makes me Weak As Hell™
meandering-hedonist