(Source: s-emvergonha, via gio-ve)

(via tears-thick-enough-to-stain)

(via thecatalyst-toyourdemise)

The heart … By penny skehan.

The bleeding heart, still drips of sorrow. The burning ember still wakes for morrow.
The crimson bleeds as the joy slumbers. Five hundred more, no desire just numbers.
Khush is needed not wanted, as it feeds. Evil is dormant and waiting, heartache is all it needs.
The hungry wolf no longer prevails. The goat still soft and wagging tails.
The spark has turned to ash once more. It belongs to another unfaithful sore.

The goat baa’s for self, the wolfs continuous sleep. All want and need is lost, the most grounded feet.
To don another heart would classify and suicide. To live is to break and sleep and being neither dead nor alive.
The heart vessels pump severe poison through the mind. No control, no determination nor one of mine.
No longer happy nor hibernating behind fake. It will all still hurt, when I awake.
Because,
The bleeding heart still drips of sorrow. The burning ember is gone. No tomorrow.

(Source: grisho.net, via fallinginyourlove)

remember-to-love-yourself:

I changed for the better

(via sneaky-teen)

Nothing to do at work (Taken with GifBoom)

(Source: safest-heaven, via howling--wolves)