flock of synopsis
Intimacy is not who you let touch you. Intimacy is who you text at 3am about your dreams and fears. Intimacy is giving someone your attention, when ten other people are asking for it. Intimacy is the person always in the back of your mind, no matter how distracted you are.
(via queerkaitlin)
socialfoto:

Dandelion Dew by michaeltodddundon #SocialFoto

socialfoto:

Dandelion Dew by michaeltodddundon #SocialFoto

connect the moles.

i did. i traced them until the end.

they said goodbye. goodnight.

i love seeing writers
crawl into their
scabrous shells,
only to come out with
a different facade.
they are restless,
they are sour…
they are the veins of
Mother Nature creeping
from the darkest places.
they are wreckless,
they are wild,
half dead and half alive -
leaving their shriveled
roots to be their last
refresh.

He offered her the world. She said she had her own.
Monique Duval (via flock-of-synopsis)
-dkfsw

-dkfsw

flock-of-synopsis:

steady rains
are already
poetic enough
so they don’t
need anyone
to write on
their behalf.

flock-of-synopsis:

the City lights can claim a Fool like me. though, i’d rather have the Moon.

flock-of-synopsis:

the City lights can claim a Fool like me. though, i’d rather have the Moon.

flock-of-synopsis:

history takes ahold
in a whole new world;  
lovers lost and gone, 
not forgiven or forgotten. 
treading on different paths, 
knowing, 
behind our eyes, 
our shadows once danced-
like heaven and earth were real. 
but they’re not. 

it came like a dream 
at it’s best climax, 
and ended like a war 
of dying soldiers; 
our own blood 
on our own hands.  
with nobody 
who understood enough 
to provide asylum.

flock-of-synopsis:

history takes ahold
in a whole new world;
lovers lost and gone,
not forgiven or forgotten.
treading on different paths,
knowing,
behind our eyes,
our shadows once danced-
like heaven and earth were real.
but they’re not.

it came like a dream
at it’s best climax,
and ended like a war
of dying soldiers;
our own blood
on our own hands.
with nobody
who understood enough
to provide asylum.

caught

caught

🎶🎶

drewwilsonphoto:

catching fireflies right after the last of the sunlight has died. then begging them to show their light. your sticky bare legs stuck to the inside of cold bed sheets. feeling the breeze through every open window course over your damp skin. you embrace it softly as each worried thought rests on it. you’re out of metaphors and similes. your thoughts fall blank after the heat has seemed to suck the life from you. you can’t force these things. you can’t rush them. being in love in summer isn’t easy. you’ll have better luck finding cool air conditioning or cold glasses of lemonade. you’ll have better luck seeing the fireflies illuminate. keep watching the ice melt in your red wine. keep tying those laces tight. keep hoping tomorrow will be cooler than tonight. 

so iridescent.