next time im having secks im going to roll over and whisper in his ear “maybach music’ in that same voice
are they called pets because you pet them or is it called petting because they’re pets
- ω: Have you ever dyed your hair? If so, what color(s)?
- 【・ヘ・?】: Ever tripped in front a bunch of people?
- ＊: When was the last time you tied your hair up? (if your hair is long enough)
- 愛: Are you currently dating?
- ＠: Ever felt attracted to the opposite sex before?
- ヽ(ﾟДﾟ)ﾉ: Have you ever wanted to flip a table before? If so, why?
- (⌒.−): Are there times where you wish to go back in time and redo or fix something you regret?
- (;° ロ°): Have you ever lost your wallet or purse?
- ♀: Tell me something that turns you on.
- ♂: Tell me something that turns you off.
- ≋: Post a picture of yourself.
- ⅚: Post the link if your current favorite song.
- ღ: Post a gif of what you're currently feeling right now.
- ≘: Have you ever watched the sun rise?
- હ: Are you still a virgin?
- ➍: Ever been to a concert? Was it fun?
- （．＿．）: Do you think you are an awkward person?
- 싫: Any piercings?
- ℨ: If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?
- ♫- Favourite musician/band?
- $- Secret that nobody knows?
- ♂- Sexuality?
- ▲- A favourite blog?
- ☺- My opinion of your blog?
- ♥- Something/Somebody you love?
- ♯- Biggest regret?
fact: you eat 28 spiders in your lifetime. always 28. if you are about to die and you have only eaten 3 then 25 spiders arrive at once
Jesus I leave for 20 minutes and that post already has 3 notes. Did someone tumblr famous reblog it???
When I said I wasn’t with another girl
the January after we fell in love for the 3rd time,
it’s because it wasn’t actual sex.
In the February that began our radio silence,
it was actual sex. I hate the tight shirts
that go below your waistline.
Not only do they make you look too young,
but then your torso is a giraffe’s neck attached to tiny legs.
I screamed at myself in the subway
for writing poems about you still.
I made a scene. I think about you almost
each morning, and roughly every five days, I still
believe you’re there.
I still masturbate to you.
When we got really bad,
I would put another coat of mop water on the floor of the bar
to make sure you were asleep when I got to my side of the bed.
You are the only person to whom I’ve lied, knowing
I was telling the truth. I miss the way your neck
wraps around my face like a cave we are both lost in.
I remember when you said being with me
is like being alone with company.
My friend Sarah wrote a poem about pink ponies.
I’m scared you’re my pink pony.
Hers is dead. It is really sad. You’re not dead.
You live in Ohio, or Washington, or Wherever.
You are a shadow my body leaves on other girls.
I have a growing queue of things I know
will make you laugh and I don’t know where to put them.
I mourn like you’re dead. If you had asked me to stay,
I would not have said no.
It would never mean yes.