eat my ass
Stephanie Ann;
a free spirit.
The Cusp Of Prophecy
NYC chick

Dear You,

It’s been awhile since we’ve said anything even remotely pleasant to each other. Today was nice. It almost felt like we were us, the old us, the people we were before we ripped each other’s insides out. I still can’t close my eyes without thinking about your smile pressed against mine in sloppy, awkward kisses that neither of us would ever admit to adoring. Some nights I drown myself in the songs we listened to when we spent the afternoon wasting our time on my bedroom floor. I’ll admit it still hurts to hear them, but they make me think of the grin you wore on your face that entire day, even when you were wrinkling your nose at my music taste. If I hadn’t known I was in love with you before that, I certainly knew it then. I think you knew it too, maybe even before I did, although you never gave me the chance to say it. We technically didn’t fall apart until a week later, but after that day, we began to collapse. I could start filling your mailbox with handwritten poems about how torn apart I am inside by the fact that who we were is dead now. I could write you novels about the way your lip quivers when you’re nervous or how your eyes are never the same shade of green as they were the last time I gazed at them, but this isn’t a love letter. This is a “fuck you” letter. This is a letter to say you ruined me and I despise every last bit of you, but your side of the bed will always be empty if you miss my voice or laugh as much as I miss yours. And if you miss my stomach as your pillow, I’ll always be here for you to come back. Please come back.

(via sickfake)

1 day ago · 1,509 notes

"I know better than to do this. I knew that when my dad said he was leaving my mom things would never be the same for her and there would be nothing left but this empty space, not only where he would lay at night, but also between her ribs. I know that my mother would have waited night after night for him and that’s exactly what I’m doing with you. I’m waiting for you to come back home to me, right where you belong."between my ribs and right beside me (via unscar)

1 day ago · 704 notes


Stop getting mad because another man appreciates the beauty YOU fail to cherish and adore.



Poor Don Glover.