(Source: teenbetrayal, via terrible)
(via pizaslut)
(via blissful-unawareness)
(Source: poeta-mafioso, via coralflush)
(Source: wicked-transparency, via blissful-unawareness)
(Source: burning-soul, via wild-flllowers)
(via wild-flllowers)
(via praises)
You are flowers in my stomach.
Cutting me open nightly, blooming through the cracks of the ribs.
I only want to be the sun for you.
—Elke River (via muse)
(Source: hellanne, via anchored-dreams)
(Source: dontyouever-giveup, via anchored-dreams)
Human beings are funny. They long to be with the person they love but refuse to admit openly. Some are afraid to show even the slightest sign of affection because of fear. Fear that their feelings may not be recognized, or even worse, returned. But one thing about human beings puzzles me the most is their conscious effort to be connected with the object of their affection even if it kills them slowly within.
—Sigmund Freud (via perfect)
(Source: vrban, via anchored-dreams)
City and Colour
—Northern Wind
You’re the Northern Wind
Sending shivers down my spine
You’re like fallen leaves
In an autumn night
(Source: ctrlplusz, via libertinnus)
(Source: hawaiian-kai, via typicalwhiteblogger)
Flowers always make people better, happier, and more helpful, they are sunshine, food and medicine for the soul.
—Luther Burbank (via fromyouflowers)
(via twistedwiskers)
