Touch me ‘til my ribs become piano keys,
‘til there is sheet music scrolled across the inside of my lungs

— Andrea Gibson   (via greetingsfromplanetkatya)

Touch me ‘til my ribs become piano keys,
‘til there is sheet music scrolled across the inside of my lungs

— Andrea Gibson   (via greetingsfromplanetkatya)

littleaspirations:

dating-niall:

only girls with boyfriends shave their legs in the winter

the truest of facts.

linearskin:

I always have this image in my head of getting high in the warmest coziest room, pretty candles and expensive wine, slow, sleepy music playing from an old record player in the corner, the sun no where to be seen, and the only that thing that matters is the person laying with their skin touching yours, kissing and smiling shyly, tracing letters with their fingertips on your back, neck, lips, dying to undress but so scared to lose the moment.

merriberri:

is “no” an emotion because i feel it

barackobama:

paulyoptosaurus:

its 2012 why cant we print food off the internet god damnit obama

I will punch you in the mouth.