Cherry Picking Things To Smile About This Summer. I Need These Things To Keep Going. All This Love, Food,

i related a lot to your post about not being able to listen to a band. drinking wine and listening to music was most of my relationship with my ex and i couldn’t listen to our favourite band for months. it does get better you do start to forget the memories behind songs and then you get to create new ones. it does get better 💖

hello my love! it means the world you relate to my writing. love is a powerful and risky vice, huh? sending you all the light in the world, angel, because losing somebody you felt had one half of your heart is fucking painful. it does get better, slowly each wave of despair gets less devestating. my messages are open if you ever need to talk lovely❤️

my lover read this and turned to kiss me, said, honey, heaven is anywhere where you are. told me he fell in love with me when I danced with him to frank sinatra in his living room after our first date, hips swaying and lips turned into a crescent moon. if there was ever a moment I wished to repeat, I swear this is the one. this is the one.

my bed for one feels so empty without you here. come over, let’s eat shitty chinese and watch bad tv (which is inherently never a bad idea). kiss me. let’s dance to frank sinatra. kiss me again. sleep next to me, tell me you’ll be here in the morning. tell me you’ll meet me in my dream tonight. kiss me again and again. and again.

I can’t wait to hug you and see you again. I miss you.

yeah i know u miss me it’s pretty hard to forget an angel

coffee, the sunrise and the buildings awash in the light of a new morning all around me. how lovely is it to be alive. to experience all this busyness and splendour. how the clouds whisper good morning and the heavens themselves shine through each crack in the sky. how the sun calls my body to wake. how the birds tell me today is a new day and aren’t there just endless possibilities. the promise of a new sunrise makes me so glad I’m still alive.

tag yourself: lana del rey edition

diet mountain dew: strawberry milkshakes, vintage diners, heart-shaped sunglasses and tennis skirts, party girl, glittery makeup, lip gloss, heartbreaker

national anthem: 60s soft glamour, expensive taste, gold and pearl jewelry, old hollywood black and white films, elegance, red lipstick

bel air: ethereal and angelic, picking wildflowers, butterflies and soft animals, believing in angels, pink blush, gentle and kind

ride: crushing on guys that ride motorcycles, 70s angel, free spirited, getting into trouble, independent, reckless, adventurous

brooklyn baby: slow dancing to rock music, low key nyc bars, kissing in leather jackets, cigarettes and jazz, smoky eyes, mysterious

florida kilos: tropical baby, mimosas, drawn to the ocean, sun-kissed skin, gold highlight & shimmer, short dresses, moonlight dancing

salvatore: would rather be in italy, grapes & oranges, sunshine, white sundresses, fresh cut market flowers, hydrated skin

honeymoon: romantic and sensual, easily broken heart, love letters, fields of roses and peonies, hazy afternoons in love, warm vanilla

To be loved is to be eaten, ripped to the bone, skin tender and pink. A blush so bloody, my sweet killer, collaborators in each other’s demise.

To love is to attend hundreds of funerals of the person they used to be. How many did I create? How many did I kill? Have you done the same to me, my love?

To be loved is to die and to be reborn in their kiss over and over and over again, the resurrection painful as my bones rearrange to fit the mould of your body.

To love is to kill, heart in your hands and safety in your mouth. I am the funeral pyre and you are the onlooker, crying tears of grief but warmed by the flames. I burn to keep you safe, lover.

To be loved is to consume, gag, swallow everything whole, the sugar too sickly sweet, body unused to softness like this.

To love is to scream, is to lose in this battle for two, is to be vulnerable and hopeful and innocent and lost and found. A paradigm of desperate emotions.

To be loved is to kiss and suffocate but not pull away, no, never pull away.

my lover used to blush and shake his head in disagreement whenever I called him handsome. emerald green eyes rolling and skin flushed in embarrassment. I could tell he didn’t quite believe me.

now, 6 months on, whenever I call him handsome he kisses my cheek and smiles. says, thank you, says I love you and squeezes me tight.

‘Being a Woman is Inherently Uncanny’: An Interview With Carmen Maria Machado | Hazlitt