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We only ever love each other
the right way when one of us is gone.
On Saturdays, you lay down roses in a graveyard
for the best friend you lost
but forget to give them to your mother
while she is still around.
My friend asks why I’m so quiet,
and I say I’m bad at small talk
but spend hours having conversations
with the dead poets who live inside my head.
When did everything become so beautiful
just to turn ugly?
I think maybe this is still about you.
I need to stop remembering New York
midway through all of my poems,
because I keep finding you there.
Your breath fogs up my skin every time,
and I don’t mind it.
I’m naming this after the bite marks in your neck.
The things we do to make sure people remember us.
The pounding in my head sings off key,
and it maybe it’s your name
or maybe it’s mine.
I started writing this in present tense,
but I remembered you don’t belong with me anymore.
We only ever loved each other the
right way when one of us was gone,
but the point is,
you will always be right here.
Y.Z, I cannot love you the right way (via rustyvoices)

couchcampus:

lackyannie:

mangabreadroll:

tflatte:

blackbanshee:

fearless-proud-andstrong:

ohhaiimelissa:

kristalbabich:

“It’s Been An Adventure, Mr. Fredricksen.”


“Adventure Is Out There!”

Someone asked me to post these two companion pieces together so it was easier to reblog them.

THIS WAS NOT OKAY

DUG

HE’S STILL WEARING THE ELLIE BADGE

I was just going to scroll past this when I REALISED what it was

i can just with everything in this EXCEPT FUCKING DUG.

THE DOG TOO!!! OH NO I’M A GROWN ASS DUDE OVER HERE AND I’M CATCHING FEELS

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