head up high

one day at a time.
waiting to meet my little one.
I like to write.

You’re sitting there thinking about whatever, while I’m sitting here thinking about fucking you.

—(via thatattitude)


A little red lipstick helps you feel a little better.

I want to feel beautiful again.
I want to wake up and look in the mirror with a smile.
Saying this is me.
I miss my make up, covering up my flaws.
I miss the out come, and how pretty I felt after covering up everything I didn’t like about myself.
I think it’s time to come back.
As often as he tells me I’m beautiful,
Hearing and feeling isn’t the same.


I wake up with sleep in my eyes and a smile on my face.
Seeing you in a deep sleep.
Wondering what you are dreaming about.
Wondering what’s running through your mind.
I can’t help to just look at you.
You look so peaceful.
I hope this will last for ever.
Thinking to my self, what luck fell upon me.
The times I almost ruined this.
The times I made you feel like a bad person, but really its me.
My thoughts drive me insane.
I’m paranoid. I’m scared. I’m in love.
What person what’s to lose something so special?
Then your eyes open, that smile on your face.
Its my home. Its my comfort.
It keeps me stable.
My fears start to fade, but still worried.
But stronger. Still in love.
Still wondering what was on your mind.


You think ‘Okay, I get it, I’m prepared for the worst’, but you hold out that small hope, see, and that’s what fucks you up. That’s what kills you.

—Stephen King, “Joyland”   (via bl-ossomed)

(Source: fuckyeah-unclesteve, via xxill)

Our bodies could be skin on skin and I’d still pull you closer.

—you intoxicate me (via beztroska)

(Source: n4ughty-y, via xxill)