(via boysaresuchadrag)
my favorite eye color is your eye color and my favorite height is your height and my favorite weight is your weight my favorite hands are your hands my favorite knees are your knees
i had actual tears in my eyes from who is this ?
(via be-mylifesaver)
(via cany0ufe3lmyhe4rt)
Nothing beats this kind of intimacy, when it’s about 3am and it feels like you’re the only two people in the world. There are no words or intentions, you’re just happy lying next to each other knowing that you never want to do this with anyone else. Just to consider that you’re each, essentially, a bag of bones and organs and muscles, and yet you’re both so much more than that because you’ve found each other and suddenly everything makes so much sense.
Omg this
(via embrasse-moiii)
(via prepoftheeast)
(via glukoze)
(via jansapples)
He loved her in a subtle kind of way. It wasn’t the kind of love you see in movies, with swelling music and giant gestures and running through the streets to catch a departing train. It wasn’t the kind of love that Byron or Shakespeare wrote about, with flowery language and hyperbole and iambic pentameter. It was still and deep, like water that you might mistake for shallow if you just watched the surface. It was entirely his, not dependent on her own feelings for him, and it would still be there whether she, or him, or everyone else on the world disappeared. It was a subtle kind of love, but it was true.
Jake Christie, Small Stories (via beautifulstruggle116)
(via beautifulstruggle116)
