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About: If people were rain, I was drizzle and he was a hurricaine.
lovelyardie:

itsramez:

please be courteous this 4th. of July if you have a veteran in your neighborhood 

actually signal boost this please

lovelyardie:

itsramez:

please be courteous this 4th. of July if you have a veteran in your neighborhood 

actually signal boost this please

(via songtoyou)

(via ph0nenumbers)

(via babyydoll666)

25,542 plays

(Source: qdva, via blowsive)

“I barely find anybody attractive. I barely feel an affection for anybody.. But when I do.. I fall in so deep, so hard it’s ridiculous.” —Bayron Ortiz (via sluttybastard)

(via asdfghjklmaskedbitch)

thatawkwardblondechick:

The tweet that saved the entire female population

thatawkwardblondechick:

The tweet that saved the entire female population

(via alwaysnothingtoyou)

Breaking hearts is a skill
you’ve perfected over the years.
How many girls
have doubted themselves over you?
How many girls’ fears
have you made come true?
Keep count, keep count
I’ll carve it on your headstone
the day we bury you alive.
Unfortunately this time
you’ve met your match.
Heartache is an art
I’ve mastered over dead bodies
sitting on my tongue.
Your teeth are knives sharpened
to rip out people’s throats.
You need more than that, darling.
You need a fucking axe to get to me.
I’ll moan your name when you hold my hips
and make you lose your guard so after I’ll
scream poetry about how you broke my spine
paint my walls with chunks of flesh
torn from your chest hang your head
up on the mantle like a trophy a cheap prize
I won at the carnival. You always wanted
to be the center of attention, didn’t you?

Heartbreak is a game
I’ve played over spilled guts
and open caskets, love.

I always win.

Sade Andria Zabala (surfandwrite) | Breaking Hearts Is An Art
(via surfandwrite)

(via surfandwrite)

unteens:

people who can’t handle all black outfits are weak

(via myskinnybones)

(via milointheskywithdiamonds)

“I want to ruin you.
I want you
to wake up every
morning, wishing I
was tangled in the sheets
beside you.
I want every line
from Pablo Neruda’s
poetry to paint the
image of me in your mind
when you read him.
I want every continent
and every country
to be unsafe from
thoughts of me.
I want every art piece,
in every museum
to remind you of
how much I love you
and how much
I’m begging you
to love me back.
I want you to think
of me every time
you tell someone
you miss them, and
feel a longing, simply
from missing me more.
I want your hands
to feel every curve
and every ridge
of my warm body
underneath them
at all times.
I want your words
telling me
how much you love me.
I want you to know
how selfish I am with you,
and be even more
selfish back.
I want to ruin you
the way you ruin me.
I want you.
Oh my God,
I want you.”
M.B., Slow Burn (via scribbledonnapkins)
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