But, oh, your mouth – listen.

Listen: I could write odes to your mouth. I could dedicate my life to mapping out your tongue, your cranberry gums, the rows of ivory teeth, standing like soldiers. Your mouth pulls words from me, words like ‘wrecked’ and ‘wanting.’

Listen: when I was ten, my mother gave me her wedding ring and told me not to fall in love. She warned against the hands of men and eyes like fingernails. But it was the mouths she hated most, she said, the mouths like Adonis’s lean and freckled waist. Mouths full of cemeteries. Mouths full of tombstones.

Listen: I love you so much that the sky burns with it. We woke together in New York today and the dawn was on fire. When you made me breakfast, all the cirrus clouds were scattering and stumbling over themselves, borne blue from smoke. I kissed your shoulder blade, and the sun made love to the horizon. You taste like burning to the ground.

Listen: I turned sixteen, and a man touched me for the first time. He was my brother’s best friend, seared and sun-kissed. It did not happen slow, it happened hard against the kitchen counter, swallowing my consent. Bruises, legs, lips. That was the first mouth I touched, and it still stains my teeth some days. I’m sorry if sometimes you taste him, but he almost swallowed me whole.

Listen: my father was made of concrete and steel. Especially his fists, and I inherited them.

Listen: I was taught from a young age that love is supposed to leave you bruised.

Listen: you are teaching me softness. You are teaching me warmth. I love you so much, it makes a birds’ nest of my heart.

Listen: the thrushes sing, and it sounds like Manhattan collapsing into dust.



— Ode to Your Mouth | d.a.s (via backshelfpoet)

(via coloraturakitten)


Fall 2013 - Spring 2014 and everything in between.

(via alaraxo)


A haiku from the article:  Seinfeld, His Show, and Inequality

life is not
so tragic as
we think it is.

nor is it as
perfect as
show us.


you are not
as broken
as your mirror
tells you you


you are more
whole than
anyone will ever

you are
than your
bones will ever

you are more.


— Eleanor Rubin (via buttondownsandbackpacks)

(via dayofjane)

(Source: lonerissmm, via alaraxo)

"You’re a lover, I’m a runner and we go round and round. And I love you but I leave you, I don’t want you but I need you."

— Zac Brown Band (via seabelle)

(Source: caramel-lattte, via laceglitterandbows)


I’m not going to be the girl you marry.
I’ll be the memory you have when you propose to her. As you slide that ring on her finger you’ll think about that time we got dressed in our swankiest threads and had a horrible time at that party so we came back home and sat in an empty bath tub drinking whiskey outta the bottle talking about our childhood dreams.

I’m not going to be the girl you marry. I’ll be that memory whenever you and her get in an argument. you’ll recall our first fight and the endless glares and icy tones. Repetition of words like RESPECT and WHY rung through the stillness of the air. We almost ended that night. Thankfully you stopped me from walking out of that door.

I’m not going to be the girl you marry. I’ll be that memory when you have your first child. When you and your wife are picking out names you’ll remember our talk about our future. Our apartment layout and first pet. A dog named Pascal because I’m allergic to cats.

I’m not going to be the girl you marry. I’ll be the girl you fall for when you are too young to understand what falling really is. You’ll fuck up and lose me. You won’t realize it until a while later. But when you do, you’ll think about me everyday. Forever.


— you’ll miss me- jlw (via burgundythoughts)
A girl canal dream (via universal-crush)

(via nadinedurga)

(Source: jarndellphotos, via alaraxo)


There will be kisses, and they will not always be good, they will not always be memorable. Your first, 8 years old, will taste like chocolate and soda pop. He will have a smudge of dirt on his nose, it will transfer to your cheek, your mother will wipe it off when you get home. You will not remember his name but it’s okay because you’ll remember that you played in the mud afterwards. He was your boyfriend for a single day. It was fine. You were more preoccupied with being the fastest runner.

Your second will look like a sticky summer afternoon, you are 14 years old and your entire body is a goose-bump, he does not know how to hold your face properly, you bump teeth and he says ‘sorry’ and you blush so hard that you feel faint. When he tries to kiss you again you both lean forward at the same time and leave forehead bruises on each other for an entire week. He mouths ‘sorry sorry’ every time he looks at you. Your hands shake when you write his name in your diary.

The third, fourth, fifth. You are 18 years old and they are drunken car crashes in the dark. Each ghosted breath against your mouth smells like beer and teenage desperation. They will put their hands on your body and you will try to wriggle your way into their skin. You wish one of them would ask you on a date. None of them do. In the morning they only know that you were beautiful and that your mouth tasted like ashes.

When you are 19 you will be kissed and you will not want it. There will be bruises on your jaw, and your upper arms. You will not be able to look at a man for months without shrinking inwards. He will not say sorry. He will not look at you after. Instead he’ll take his guilt home and feed it to himself. When his mother asks what is wrong, he won’t be able to meet her gaze.

It’s at 22 when you are kissed properly, when you are kissed into romance novels. There will be a man and he will cradle your jaw between his hands, he will cup your scalp and bend you backwards. You will cling desperately and you will eat at each others mouths like you were starving. He will only touch your face, but somehow your entire body is on fire. Even the air is flushing deeply. You will forget your name, he will forget his. The entire summer is pressing itself against the places where your bodies meet. It is tongue and teeth and lust. It is what your mouth was made for.

This is the kiss that you are looking for, do not accept any others. These are the ones you will remember when you are lying naked at night and the light wears you like a dress and the other side of the bed is empty. These are the kisses that touch you only on the lips and turn all of you into flames.


Azra.T “A Lesson in Teeth” (via 5000letters)

(via coloraturakitten)

"I still remember the way my stomach flipped when I first saw her. I tried so hard to keep it cool, but goddamnit she was beautiful."

light-another-one (via light-another-one)

(via raegayshiit)