Like big, fat kisses. Or angels. Or stars.
Or something. I don’t know.
Love poems never make sense to me.
Poets say things like “Your teeth are flowers.”
or “Your eyes are miracles.” But you
aren’t miracles. Or flowers. You
are some sweet boy with a good smile
and a shaky heart. Come kiss me.
I’m in love with the miracle of your body
beside my body. Love Poems, Clementine von Radics (via eefinem)
i bought a rubber duck today that is actually jesus holding a lamb but it’s a rubber duck too look at it
- Me with romantic interest: Hi, how've you been lately? How's that project you're working on? Yeah? I'd love to see sometime, dude! How's the family? Good, good. Well, I'll talk to you later! Yeah we definitely need to hang out more often. Hopefully see you soon! :)
- Me with platonic friend: YOU GORGEOUS CREATURE HOW LONG HAS IT BEEN SINCE LAST I SAW YOU? HOW I'VE MISSED YOUR LUCID DIAMOND EYES, UGH I JUST WANT TO KISS YOU AND MAKE SWEET, SWEET LOVE UNDER THE MOONLIGHT. WHY ARE YOU SO PERFECTLY SCULPTED, ARE YOU AN ANGEL MADE OF MARBLE LET'S GET MARRIED.
- Me with closest friend: What up, foul beast? You smell of butts. I'm going to fuck your mum.
“do i hit him or fuck him” a memoir by dr. leonard mccoy