Sober or drunk, it’s always you.
“There goes my Heart”
(via
suspend)
His name has slipped from my lips countless times. He is on my mind every second of the day, on my dreams every night. He is, undoubtedly, mine.
I will only let you touch me
if your hands are so full of intention
that every brush of your palms
feels like you writing a novel on my skin.
That’s the trouble with loving a wild thing: You’re always left watching the door.
the guy i am currently dating is so fucking hot/cute/tall/interesting/talented like i genuinley just let out a scream because h o l y s h i t
willyoulovemeh:
I just want to be slightly drunk, half naked, and completely on top of someone.
I shouldn’t be jealous. You aren’t even mine.